#here are some of my favorite mr romance images

[physalian]

On Writing Theme (Or, Make it a Question)

An element of story so superficially understood and yet is the backbone of what your work is trying to say. Theme is my favorite element to design and implement and the easiest way to do that? Make it a question.

A solid theme takes an okay action movie and propels it into blockbuster infamy, like Curse of the Black Pearl. It turns yet another Batman adaptation into an endlessly rewatchable masterpiece, seeing the same characters reinvented yet again and still seeing something new, in The Dark Knight. It’s the spiraling drain at the bottom of classic tragedies, pulling its characters inevitably down to their dooms, like in The Great Gatsby.

Theme is more than just “dark and light” or “good and evil”. Those are elements that your story explores, but your theme is what your story *says* with those elements. 

For example: Star Wars takes “dark vs light” incredibly literally (ignoring the Sequels). Dark vs Light is what the movies pit against each other. How the selfish, corrupted, short-sighted nature of the Dark Side inevitably leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy of doom—that’s what the story is about.

A story can have more than one theme, more than one statement it wants to make and more than one question to answer. Star Wars is also about the inevitable triumph of unity and ‘goodness’ over division and ‘evil’.

Part of why I love fantasy is how allegorical it can be. Yes I’m writing a story with vampires, but my questions to my characters are, “What makes a monster? Why is it a monster?” My characters’ arcs are the answer to my theme question.

Black Pearl is a movie that dabbles in the dichotomy between law-abiding soldiers and citizens, and the lawless pirates who elude them. Black Pearl’s theme is that one can be a pirate and also a good man, and that neither side is perfect or mutually exclusive, and that strictly adhering to either extreme will lead you to tragedy.

Implementing your theme means, in my opinion, staging your theme like a question and answering it with as many characters and plot beats as possible. In practice?

Q: Can a pirate be a good man? A: Jack is. Will is. Elizabeth is. Barbossa is selfish and short-sighted, and he loses. Norrington is too focused on propriety and selfless duty, and he loses.

Or, in Gatsby.

Q: Is life fulfilled by living in the past? A: Mr. Buchanan clings to his old-money ways and is a sour lout with no respect for anyone or himself. Daisy clings to a marriage that failed long ago, to retain an image and security she thinks she needs. Myrtle chases a man she can’t ever have. Her husband lusts after a wife who’s no longer his. Gatsby… well we all know what happens to him.

The more characters and plot beats you have to answer your theme’s question, the more cohesive a message you’ll send. It can be a statment the story backs up as well, as seen below, questions just naturally invite answers.

—

Do you need a theme?

Not technically, no. Plenty of stories get by on their other solid elements and leave the audience to draw their own conclusions and take their own meaning and messages. Your average romance novel probably isn’t written with a moral. Neither are your 80s/90s action thrillers. Neither are many horror movies. Theme is usually reserved for dramas, and usually in dramatic fantasy and sci-fi, where the setting tends to be an allegory for whatever message the author is trying to send. That, and kids movies.

Sometimes you just want to tell a funny story and you don’t set out with any goals of espousing morals and lessons you want your readers to learn and that is perfectly okay. I still think saying *something* will make the funny funnier or the drama more dramatic or the romance more romantic, but that’s just me and what I like to read.

When it is there, it’s right in front of your face way more often than you might think. Here’s some direct quotes succinctly capturing the main theses of a couple famous works:

“He’s a good man.” / “No, he’s a pirate.” - Curse of the Black Pearl

“What are we holding onto, Sam?” / “That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.” - LotR, Two Towers

“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.” - LotR, Fellowship of the Ring

“A person’s a person, no matter how small.” - Horton Hears a Who

“You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” - The Dark Knight

“Can’t repeat the past? Why of course you can!” - The Great Gatsby

“Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” & “Life finds a way.” - Jurassic Park

"Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind." - Lilo & Stitch

“But… I’m supposed to be beautiful.” / “You are beautiful.” - Shrek

“I didn’t kill him because he looked as scared as I was. I looked at him, and I saw myself.” - How to Train Your Dragon

“There are no accidents.” & “There is no secret ingredient.” & “You might wish for an apple or an orange, but you will get a peach.” - Kung Fu Panda

*If any of those are wrong, I did them entirely from memory, sue me.

Some of the best scenes in these stories are where the theme synthesizes in direct dialogue. There’s this moment of catharsis where you, the audience, knew what the story has been saying, but now you get to hear it put into words.

Or, these are the lines that stick in your head as you watch the tragedy unfold around the characters and all they didn’t learn when they had the chance.

When it comes to stories that have a very strong moral and never feel like they’re preaching to you, look no further than classic Pixar movies.

“Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.” - Ratatouille

“I’m not strong enough.” / “If we work together, you don’t have to be.” - The Incredibles

“Just keep swimming!” - Finding Nemo

Ellie’s adventure book, to live your own adventure, even if it’s not the one you thought it would be - Up

The Wheel Well montage, to slow down every once in a while, because in a flash, it’ll be gone - Cars

The entire first dialogue-less section of Wall-E, to stop our endless consumption or else

The real monsters are corporate consumption - Monsters Inc

One cannot fully appreciate happiness without a little sadness - Inside Out

With enough loud voices, the common man can overthrow The Man - A Bug’s Life

A person’s worth is not determined by their value to other people - Toy Story

These are the themes that I, personally, took from these movies as a kid and later in life. If I remembered the scripts any better I could probably pull some direct dialogue to support them, but, sadly, I do not have the entire Pixar catalog memorized.

—

After you’ve suffered through rigorous literary analysis classes for years on end, the “lit analyst” hat kind of never comes off. Sometimes you try to find a theme where none exists, coming up with your own. Sometimes you can very easily see the skeleton attempt at having a theme and a message that came out half-baked, and all the missed opportunities to polish it.

Whatever the case, while theme isn’t *necessary*, having that through line, an axis around which your entire story revolves, can be a fantastic way to examine which elements of your WIP aren’t meshing with the rest, why a character is or isn’t clicking, how you want to end it, or, even, how you want to approach a sequel.

Unfortunately, very, very often, a movie, book, or season of TV has a fantastic execution of a theme in its first run, and the ensuing sequels forget all about it.

No one here is going to defend Michael Bay’s Transformers movies as cinematic masterpieces, however, the first movie did actually have a thematic through line: “No sacrifice, no victory.” They didn’t stick the landing but, you know, the attempt was made. Where is that theme at all in the sequels? Nonexistent. They could have even explored a different theme and they abandoned it altogether.

Black Pearl’s thematic efforts fell away to lore and worldbuilding in its two sequels. Not that they’re bad! I love Dead Man’s Chest, but to those who don’t like the sequels, that missing element may be part of why.

Shrek and Shrek 2 both centered on their theme of beauty being how you define it and no one else. Fiona finds true love in her “true” form, then strengthens that message in the sequel when she has the chance to be “normal” and conventionally attractive, and still chooses to be an ogre, to be with Shrek. Shrek 3’s theme is…? 

When it was never there, that theme is missing isn’t so obvious. When it used to be there and got left behind, it leaves a crater in its wake everyone notices, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

—

TLDR: Theme is more than just vague nouns and dichotomies. Good, evil, dark, light, selfishness, altruism, beauty, ugliness, riches, poverty, etc are what your story uses. Your theme is what your story has to say with those elements, using as many characters and plot points as possible to reinforce its message. Is it necessary? No. Is it helpful and does it lead to a richer experience? Yes.

[vilevampz]

My Gothic Inspirations: A Peek into My Creative World

Hey, dark souls! 🌑

Today, I wanted to share a little glimpse into where I draw my inspiration from when crafting my gothic, horror, and fantasy tales. These sources help me dive deep into the shadows and bring my stories to life.

1. Classic Gothic Literature

I often revisit the eerie and atmospheric worlds of classic gothic novels. Here are some of my favorites:

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: The themes of creation and monstrosity never fail to spark new ideas.

Dracula by Bram Stoker: The suspense and dark romance in this novel are incredibly inspiring.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson: The exploration of duality and inner demons is a constant source of fascination.

2. Gothic Poetry

Poetry has a unique way of evoking intense emotions and vivid imagery. Some poets I frequently turn to include:

Edgar Allan Poe: His macabre and melancholic verses are a treasure trove of inspiration.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is a haunting narrative that deeply influences my writing style. (I can talk about this a lot (lol) I read it for the first time in my British Lit. class at University and it left an impact on me.)

3. Music

Music is a powerful tool for setting the mood. I have a go-to playlist of gothic and atmospheric tracks that help me get into the writing zone. (I have the playlist posted on my blog) Some favorites include:

Bauhaus – Bela Lugosi’s Dead

Drown-Strange Boutique

When We Go Dark-Faith and the Muse

4. Art and Aesthetics

Dark, gothic art and photography are great sources of visual inspiration. I love browsing through gothic artwork on sites like Pinterest to find images that spark story ideas. I also love gaining inspiration from alternative subcultures and fashion aesthetics. Antyting that embodies a dark/moody persona or look helps me envision characters for stories or the atmosphere I want to create. 

5. Movies and TV Shows

Gothic and horror films provide endless inspiration. I do not watch horror movies but 3 or 4 total (haha) but I know people gain a lot of inspiration from that. For me, I do enjoy, horror anime, so I love to gain inspiration from those. Some all-time favorites are:

Supernatural (TV Series)

Ju-On: The Grudge 

The Lost Boys

Labyrinth 

Another (anime) 

What About You?

Where do you find your inspiration? Whether it's books, music, nature, or something entirely different, I’d love to hear about it! Share your sources of inspiration in the comments below.

Happy creating! 🖤

[coffee-and-tea-time]

✿ Introduction to this nonense ✿

Fruit salad: the unexpected romance

Hi! coffee and tea speaking! this blog is purely to write and show all our silly thoughts, so let us speak a little of our main goofy story!

In this story, you are Tomato, a transfer student of the fruits school... yes, it was a surprise for you too, all your life believing you were a vegetable... But, in this school you will be able to make some friends too, right? right?

You meet a lot of interesting fruits here, but one seems to catch your eye more that the others, huh?

so, tell me, have you ever imagined a fruit otome game?

Let's be honest, there's so many bizarre otome games out there that you probably have

at least we have

we shall begin with...

✿ Character introduction:

Orange: they really should give me more vacations...

Coconut: don't get too close to me, freak

Lemon: tch, do whatever you want

Strawberry: yes, I know, I'm perfect, just admit it

Banana: everything's gonna be okay and if not, I'll help you out!

Tangerine: you don't know it yet, but we're already friends

Watermelon: the more the merrier, no matter which fruit you are

Melon:...huh

Green Apple: fruits like you are not worth my time...

Red Apple: we're not so different... I hope you can keep up with me

Pineapple: you're so...interesting, i could stare at you for hours

Green Grape: Shh! Don't rat me out to Mr. Orange!

Purple Grape: you have seen nothing~

Kiwi: Haha, you're very strange, I like it

Avocado: seems like our situation is similar, can we be friends?

Pear: I hope you're not having a hard time, in any case, I'll defend you!

Quite the characters, dont you think?

Yes, i think i already have my favorite..

But... arent we forgotting to mention someone, Tea?

Shush, don't rush it... it'll spoil the fun, coffee

images from pinterest

sorry for misspells, english isn't our first language

[unsociableandtaciturnbarbie]

Here we have a Tik Tok which I randomly scrolled upon two nights ago (whether it got added to my favorites collection is between me and whoever is monitoring my Tik Tok activity). This Tik Tok is fairly simple, but it’s really funny to me. It starts with a picture of a bunch of nurses/doctors running with a stretcher captioned, “she’s losing blood what’s her type?!?”, then the next slide is a collage of nine photos of Matthew Macfayden’s Mr. Darcy from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie (1 of the 9 photos being the Hand Flex itself). The joke here is that the doctors were asking about the patient’s blood type and instead we are provided with the patient’s type in men (Type, according to urban dictionary, is “a preference or what you look for in a significant other”). This is accompanied by lyrics from the song Soaked by Shy Smith (feel free to look up the lyrics, but I’m afraid of Tumblr’s moderation). This template with the play on the word “type” is used across Tik Tok for all sorts of characters and celebrities both real and fictional (Please read “all sorts of characters” as “I’ve seen a Simon from Alvin and the Chipmunks one under the same sound”). I’d categorize this template as one of the many varieties of thirst traps which the internet has to offer and just thinking about Mr. Darcy in the context of a thirst trap is incredibly funny to me. This thirst trap in particular was really good, I think, in its use of the song Soaked because two of the included photos are of him obviously having just come out of the rain (part of what I like to call the Wet Darcy Effect) and even though I don’t think that’s what the writer of the song was going for I like to imagine it was. The fact that the Hand Flex got its own picture in the collage also really made this Tik Tok complete for me. Side note: When I first watched the 2005 version I didn’t really care about the hand flex, but my mom pointed out that it’s probably the only time in this era that a man and woman would be making skin to skin contact except for maybe dancing (even then they should technically be wearing gloves). So, the hand flex is meant to be a sort of reaction to sparks Darcy is feeling just by helping her up into a carriage…I was soon converted to a Hand Flex fan. This is a really good example for me though of what we started to get into at the end of class today with “Darcymania”. What is it about Mr. Darcy that makes him such an object of internet fascination? Jane Austen wasn’t exactly writing him to be some sort of incredibly hot heartthrob with crazy sexual appeal; he’s just described as a handsome rich man with a tendency to be incredibly awkward and possibly even proud in social situations (which during regency times made him a catch for sure, but modern standards tend to be raised past money). And yet, the Wet Darcy Effect has spread its ripples of staring at soaking wet regency men through popular media from TikTok thirst traps to Bridgerton (see image below).

I think there’s definitely a level of adaptations having influence here, especially with something like Mr. Darcy in the rain or in a pond that never actually happens in the book. But, there’s also something to be said about Mr. Darcy the book character. As an avid romance consumer, I do think there’s something incredibly romantic about falling in love with someone you’re determined to hate, as Mr. Darcy does in the book. Even in the first few chapters we’re getting lines that are certainly making my heart melt like, “Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her.” Additionally (as we’ll get into later so I don’t want to spoil it too much) he’s willing to accept the consequences of his actions and rectify them for her. If we’re thinking about Mr. Darcy with a sort of “I can fix him mindset”, then I’d argue he does the fixing by himself by the end of the book. I wish I could come to a conclusion on why the internet has made the jump from “Mr. Darcy is a good romantic interest” to “Let’s make thirst traps and put him half-dressed on candles like you would with religious figures (see below)”, but I cannot. As someone who has personally made the jump from “Hey, he’s kind of an intriguing character” to “my roommates buy me things with his face on them”, I can kind of see the appeal, but crossing the line to sexualizing him and making thirst traps has never once occurred to me so there’s definitely still some missing pieces.

Here's the Tik Tok link for crediting purposes:

[knightofsuperior]

It's Hard to Tell Sometimes When People Are Merely Invested in Others' Relationships or When They're Here for the Inevitable Fireworks, But They're in for a Hell of a Show Today

Fandom: The Legend of Heroes/Trails, Trails of Cold Steel

Summary:

For Jusis and Machias, it's just a day at the summer festival. For everyone else, it's another episode of their favorite will-they-won't-they romance drama. Or: Jusis and Machias try to enjoy a day out while their friends (and some enemies) watch with vested interest.

Read the fic here and check out an excerpt/my thoughts below!

Excerpt:

The Juschias Matchmaking Society CatNapz has sent an image: twohalvesofonebraincell.jpg CatNapz: lol CatNapz: do u think this is finally The Time ReanBeanMachine: Fie, you know it’s not nice to follow people without permission. CatNapz: yea but itz them CatNapz: our boys CatNapz: itz not stalking anyway itz reconnaissance ReanBeanMachine: How did you spell that right and misspell “it’s”? CatNapz: It’s a conscious choice. CatNapz: im gonna follow them ReanBeanMachine: You’re going to follow a moving tram??? CatNapz: u kno i can make it ReanBeanMachine: That’s not the point! CatNapz: dont tell me mr bonding doesnt want to see a happy couple MagicAlisa: I’m starting to think he doesn’t have space for romance in his brain. MagicAlisa: Swords and self-guilt take up too much real estate. ReanBeanMachine: Ow. MagicAlisa: I didn’t see a denial there.

Author's Note: With thanks again to @earthsenshi for the beta-ing! Another gift fic, and this one in a direction I don't usually take things--I don't do too many shippy fics, outside of upon request, but I like to think I nailed the balance between the romantic parts and my usual writing tropes and preferences fairly well here. Also, the chance to write the Enforcers is rarely one I'll pass up, so there's that.

[sassykattery]

Love's Web, Part 4

Ooooooo they kissed. What else is gonna happen?

CW: CW: Altaira is afab, uses she/her pronouns. Profanity. There's not really much spoilers for ATSV but they're coming. Nudity. Makeout session.

Characters: Altaira (afab oc!), Diavolo, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Barbatos, all brothers implied, Simeon, Solomon, Miguel O'Hara

Themes: Romance. Jealousy. Multiverse. Angst.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Masterlist

"Miguel," Altaira popped her head into her office. His eyes darted to hers as he was just admiring her desktop background again.

"Yes?"

"I have to run to the supply room to get some stuff. Are you okay here?"

"Sure," he replied quietly. She nodded and closed the door again, and he heard another door open and close, followed by quick footsteps down the hall.

Miguel went back to his task, opening a web browser again when he heard a knock at the door.

"Yes?"

Where he was expecting to see a short blonde woman with an armful of stuff stood a demon as tall as he who frowned just as deeply as he did to see the other instead of said woman.

"Oh, hello," Diavolo greeted him civilly.

"Hello," Miguel replied coldly, looking back to the screen.

The Demon Lord was quiet for a moment as his senses told him what had transpired here. He could still smell the leftover arousal from her, his senses showing him the mental image of her sprawled out on her desk. To his disgust, he could sense the spiderman's arousal and knowing where he was standing a while ago, too. The prince knew they didn't get too far, but a growl started to percolate in his chest until he snapped out of his jealous haze.

"Did you need something?" Miguel asked while looking up from under his brows with a scowl.

"I did. However, I was just reminded of something else. Why don't we take a walk, Mr. O'Hara?"

Miguel instantly saw through the prince's plan but agreed nonetheless. "Fine." Though, he also hated being called that.

Diavolo walked out of the office, and Miguel stalked behind him, following the prince out into the hall and down a ways to Diavolo's office.

"How are you finding your accommodations so far?" Diavolo asked a bit nicer then as they walked in.

"They're fine. Altaira has made sure I have everything I need," Miguel answered, making sure to throw it in the prince's face.

"Ah, I expect nothing less. Have a seat," Diavolo replied, walking to his office chair and gesturing toward a visitor's chair. Miguel sat, and the Demon Lord continued. "Altaira is a lovely hostess and guide. She's quite acquainted with demon life and is who we trust to make sure our guests are comfortable when we have them."

"She's quite spectacular at everything she does," Miguel replied, sitting back and crossing a leg, looking cocky.

"Indeed." Diavolo side-eyed his guest and looked away at a painting in the office, "The Birth of Venus." Her favorite painting.

"So why don't you actually tell me why you wanted to talk to me, instead of disguising this as a check-in and a "walk," hm?" Miguel finally asked with an exasperated and annoyed tone.

"At least you have your wit. I'll be clear then. My trusted butler Barbatos has done some research about you, because you see, I need to know that you're not going to destroy my realm and the people within it, my people," Diavolo explained.

"I assure you, I didn't mean to end up here," Miguel quipped.

"Of course not. But I don't think you're making quick progress of trying to leave because something has caught your eye," the prince offered in return. "Or someone."

Miguel smirked and chuckled darkly. "Oh, tonto, I'm afraid you've missed your chance. You should've made your move sooner. Let's skip the pleasantries, chico fresa."

[Idiot; Snobby boy/bratty boy]

"Very well. Barbatos found that not only did you pretty much destroy an earth in another universe, but you're not quite a stand-up superhero that you would like us to believe," Diavolo informed him coolly.

Miguel scowled and raised a brow. "I work in a society that now prevents universe-destroying events like that. As for the rest, I never claimed to be a superhero. I never claimed I'm always the good guy. I try to be, but sometimes I have to make hard decisions, and I don't always like what I have to do."

"Hard decisions like infidelity?" Diavolo asked.

"What are you talking about?" Miguel asked in reply, sounding angry.

"In Altaira's world, you're nothing more than–"

Knock knock

"Diavolo? Is Miguel with you?" Altaira asked on the other side of the door.

"Come in, Altaira," Diavolo called out, his tone instantly sweetening at her name.

She waltzed in and looked relieved at the sight of Miguel, causing the him to look rather smug.

"I left him in my office while I went to the store room but when I came back he was gone. I could hear you talking as I walked by, so I'd thought I'd ask. I'm glad I did," she explained, looking pleased.

"Of course. We were checking in," Diavolo said with a smile and adoring eyes at her. Miguel rolled his eyes until she came into view and looked up at her innocently.

"Oh good! Well, I got what I needed. I'd actually like to go run some errands. Let's head out, Miguel," she explained cheerfully. "That is, if you're done with your conversation."

"Yes," they said in unison, a little tense.

Miguel stood after Altaira walked away, and then he hung back for a second so she was out of earshot before looking over his shoulder at Diavolo.

"You had three years. Don't pretend it's anyone's fault but your own," Miguel stated before walking away, closing the door behind him.

Diavolo waited a few minutes, staring ahead, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, he slammed his fist onto the desk with an echoing smack and stood, whirling around to look out of his office window to see Miguel helping her into her car and closing the door like a gentleman.

"Damn him," Diavolo growled. There was no one who got quite under his skin like that man did. In another life, they could've gotten along, but if that human mutant wasn't trying to steal the prince's reason for existing, he supposed no one would get to know if that were true.

And if he had to hurt her a little to make her understand, well, he'd have to apologize later.

---

"The House seems a little empty," Miguel observed, walking in with Altaira.

"Yeah, I may have bamboozled the boys into leaving for the evening. We have a short week at the academy, so tomorrow is technically the start of a long weekend," she explained as she walked.

"You did? Do tell," he replied playfully. He followed her into her bedroom.

"I made them all think I was going to The Fall, the biggest club here, so of course they all went thinking we could hang out," she answered. "Am I terrible?" She asked as she stood with her back to him.

He approached and placed his hands on her hips, her back pressed to his front as he leaned down.

"I think smart is a better description," he murmured. Keeping one hand on her hip, his other hand began to caress her upper arm, his mouth pressing kisses into the side of her head.

"You weren't kidding about not forgetting," she chuckled nervously.

"Well, we don't have to do anything if you're not up to it," he murmured in her hair.

"I got us the house to ourselves for a reason," she replied. "But... let's just go slow."

"As you wish, cosita linda," he murmured against her hair.

She turned around, still in his grasp, and took his hands in hers. Then, she slowly walked backward to guide both of them to her bed. She sat and swung her legs over to lay down, and he followed after her, climbing on top of her. He held himself up as he looked down at her.

"Eres hermosa, bombón, truly. Let me show you as much," he murmured.

[You are beautiful]

She nodded, and he leaned down to kiss her again. His lips stayed soft, kissing her delicately as if she were porcelain, but that contrasted to how he grabbed her thighs firmly, not painfully. Immediately, she spread them out for him to slot himself between. He leaned his torso into her and massaged her thighs in his hands, molding them how he saw fit. Keeping one hand there, the other came up to caress her chest, trickling down and to the side as his fingers dug into the plush flesh of her stomach. She went stiff for a minute, and he stopped.

"Does that hurt?" He asked quietly.

"No, I just... that's... I don't like that part," she mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

"I do," he grunted with pinched brows. "You're soft. I like how you feel in my hands."

He squeezed her again but dove for her neck to kiss her there, causing her to gasp and arch into him. A deep chuckle resonated in his chest.

"I'm sensitive there..." she whimpered. He lavishly licked one spot followed by intensely sucking there, causing her to squirm and moan a little louder.

"There she is," he purred with a smile. "Let me make you feel good, cosita linda."

She nodded and rasped a "Yes" just before he went back to sucking and nibbling on that spot on her neck. His hand left her stomach to come back up and gently grasp her breast, instantly receiving another deep arch as she pushed herself into him and another moan.

"You're so sensitive, amorcito," he chuckled again. "It's adorable."

[Little love]

"Miguel," she moaned outright. Now, that was a sound he wanted to hear again. Her moaning his name sounded better than any music. If he had to hear his name again, he wanted to hear it like that all the time, and only from her.

"You have to tell me what you want, azúcar," he murmured against her neck.

"T-Touch me," she replied.

"Touch you where?" He teased her again.

"Anywhere," she rasped. "I just need to feel you."

"Are you saying you need me? That's a far stretch from what you were saying days ago, mi tesoro," he gloated, taking his hand and slowly slipping it under her RAD uniform blouse.

[My treasure]

"And now you're calling me sugar, treasure, and pretty little thing, where you were saying I was a stubborn mule and a rich brat," she mumbled. He could hear the sting in her words.

"Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" He whispered into the shell of her ear before pulling away to look at her.

"Show me why I should," she looked up at him with innocent wide eyes.

He smirked down at her and kissed her again, pushing her shirt up. "Can we take this off?"

"Yes."

And, within seconds, it was gone. He made his mind up he wouldn't tear her clothes up, especially the uniform. But that didn't mean he had to take his time removing it.

His eyes traveled lower, taking in the span of her torso, the dark navy and black lace bra she wore. He saw her round and soft stomach, how her waist nipped in to give her such a full hourglass shape. The faded stretch marks across her abdomen he instinctively traced his fingertips down were beautiful as well.

When he was done, he glanced up at her and saw how she refused to look at him, head turned to the side with a fiery blush on her neck, chest, and the shells of her ears. Without saying a word, he sank lower and began kissing her stomach, his hands settling on the curve of her waist to hold her in place. He started mumbling his praises in Spanish, far past what she understood. Little hickies were left across her stomach. Miguel sank lower, planting kisses above the waistband of her skirt, and he slipped one of her thighs up to rest on his shoulder.

Her moans and sighs were soft but becoming more consistent. She didn't fight him or push him away, because she truly had never felt so... worshipped.

The two were so wrapped up in each other that when her bedroom door flew open to slam against the wall, they nearly jumped out of their skins as their heads snapped to see Mammon standing there, breathing hard and looking down at the floor with his hands on his knees.

"I knew– Heh, hang on, gotta– okay, I knew you were trouble!" He barked, sounding out of breath. When he looked up, he shrieked as an angry spiderman was bounding toward him with fangs bared and talons out. "Shit!"

Miguel chased the second born out of the room and down the halls, up the stairs, and all over the house, shouting obscenities in Spanish for interrupting and barging in. Altaira sighed and got up to close the door, deciding Mammon could meet his own fate for what he did, without her bailing him out for a bit. She got undressed and found some lounge clothes to wear. With a big sigh, she laid herself on her bed again, face up toward the ceiling. She held up her hands and saw how they still lightly trembled from her nervousness. Her hands dropped to clasp one another over her chest, her brows pinched as she thought deeply.

Do I... love him? How could I?

---

A while later, Miguel finally reappeared, running his fingers through his hair and a hand on his waist as he walked into her room. It was dark, and he could make out her figure on her bed, laying on her side and wrapped in her blankets. With a sigh, he deactivated his suit and slipped into his lounge clothes as well, approaching her quietly. When he placed a hand down next to her, she instantly looked up at him over her shoulder and then scooted over to make room while relinquishing some of the blanket. He slid in silently and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

"Did you get 'em?" She murmured softly with a slight playfulness.

"He's currently plastered against the wall upside down. Surely someone will get him down," he mumbled in her ear. "Are you upset with me, bombón?"

"No, I just have a lot on my mind," she replied truthfully.

"Hmm. You can tell me," he countered.

"I will when I'm ready," she answered. He looked down at her over his nose, not liking the sound of that, but he held her tighter nonetheless.

"As you wish," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

And that's all that was said for a while. He waited for her to become still, her body relaxing into his, and her soft breathing to turn into soft snores to know she was fully asleep. He played with her hair as he lay awake, a myriad of things on his mind too. Thoughts of home plagued him, wondering if Jess and the team were handling things without him.

When Altaira kicked her leg in her sleep, he entangled her in his so she'd stop, and his mind quickly shifted gears to her. He thought about the ramifications of what he was doing. Would this disrupt anything? Could he have her? Did she want him to have her? Would she be willing to leave this place?

He wasn't entirely sure, and being so uncertain wasn't necessarily new to him, given the nature of his work, but it didn't make it any easier either.

She moved again, murmuring something as he watched her grip the sheets in front of her. His thoughts melted away as his focus shifted to her in the moment. He could feel her heart starting to pound in her chest, her body heat starting to climb. His hand came to rest on her temple as he whispered to her, hoping to ease her troubles.

"Estoy aquí," he murmured softly.

[I'm here]

Oh, how far he'd fallen in such a short time for one little woman.

"No te dejaré."

[I won't leave you]

So, so far.

---

The next morning, Miguel left her to sleep a little longer as he got up to peruse the House's pantry. As he was sifting through what was available, he heard a deep sigh, followed by someone clearing his throat.

"Good morning, Miguel," Lucifer said. Miguel closed the pantry and turned to face the eldest brother. "I made us coffee. Why don't we talk?"

"You know, I'm not sure if I'm a fan of the "talks" demons like to have," Miguel quipped as he watched Lucifer hand him a full cup of steaming brown liquid. The eldest chuckled.

"No, I'm afraid you're right. However, let's continue this outside," he replied, leading Miguel to the back and outside near the cemetery on the House property.

"Well?" Miguel prompted Lucifer.

"I saw the new art on the wall in the hallway of the foyer. A nice touch, but I did have to take it down. Having Mammon splattered to the wall almost naked ruined my appetite," Lucifer stated.

"A shame," Miguel replied.

"Nonetheless, he did mean well. I do apologize for his abrupt interruption. He's fond of Altaira, you see. He's the one who clings to her the most out of all of us," Lucifer went on to explain. When his companion didn't speak, he continued. "We all care for her deeply. But I do think out of all my brothers, I'm the most reasonable."

The Avatar then turned to face Miguel completely while taking a sip.

"And?"

"And I understand that she's special. Altaira is unlike any human we've met. Much more than just caring for her, we love her deeply. But as the eldest, and trying to be respectful of her desires, I want you to know, you can only have her if you care and love her more deeply than we do. I can't speak on behalf of our prince because hell only knows how he feels about this, but you have to treat her better than we do. She is loved and adored by an entire realm, and it won't be easy to let her go if that's something you two decide," Lucifer explained.

"What is Diavolo's problem anyway?" Miguel asked. Lucifer smiled down in his cup and looked off to the treeline beyond the cemetery.

"He loves her. He wants to marry her. But his duties stop him each and every time. He's worried about what the nobility would think," he answered. He looked back to Miguel. "A demon, a royal demon, marrying a human is unprecedented."

"Even as loved as she is by your people?"

Lucifer nodded and looked away again. "Even then. She can't provide what the realm would want from the prospective royal match. And we can't deny as progressive as we are becoming, unfortunately, there are still those with enough power to cause an uproar if they were upset by such a move on Diavolo's part."

"What do you mean by that? Not providing?" Miguel asked with a brow raised and head tilted. He finally took a drink of his coffee and nearly spat it out from its dark taste.

"I can't answer that," Lucifer replied with a sigh. "She would have to tell you more about herself. Otherwise, she's a perfect match for the prince." He finally looked back to the spiderman. "So I ask that you don't screw this up, and watch where you walk. Diavolo's outwardly kind, but he's no fool. He's aware that he is slowly losing his chance with her by you being here, so you can expect him to make calculative moves until he decides what to do– with you or her."

"And why are you telling me this? And if you say you love her as well, then why didn't you make your move?"

The Avatar of Pride chuckled deeply. "I did, two years ago. But back then, she was still holding out for Diavolo, so she turned me down." Lucifer turned serious again. "As for why I'm telling you this, well, I do still love her, so I want what's best for her. If that's you, then so be it. But if she chooses Diavolo, I want you to know that you'll have to let her go, just as I did. Just like Diavolo won't stand for the destruction of his world, I won't tolerate the destruction of my family, and that includes her."

"I see. You're right, you do seem to be the reasonable one. But I thought you were his right hand? Wouldn't you also be telling me to leave her alone?" Miguel asked suspiciously.

"I have to follow his commands. He has not made such a command... yet. And, I will say, affairs of the heart weren't in my job description when I took this on. He is on his own to woo her," Lucifer answered. He then looked at the time and sighed. "She'll be awake soon. Mammon is making breakfast today."

Miguel shivered. "Right, I believe we'll be eating elsewhere." Lucifer chuckled and nodded, gesturing back toward the House to head that way.

---

Miguel knocked at her bedroom door after his talk with Lucifer, and when he heard no reply, he walked in anyway. Just as he turned around after closing the door, he saw the bathroom door open to Altaira walking out completely naked aside from the towel wrapped up in her hair. Their eyes immediately glued to one another. After a few seconds of silence, she immediately took a step back and slammed the door shut.

He blinked a couple of times before padding over to the door and softly knocking on it.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

There was a little whimper, and then the door opened again. This time, she was wrapped in a larger towel to hide herself.

"Altaira," he murmured to her. He took hold of her chin and tilted her head back as he kissed her with a smile on his lips. "Hermosa, you really know how to work me up."

She pulled her chin away and looked down, immediately inching away.

"Bombón, did I upset you?"

"I..." she started to say and then stopped. She trembled a bit, leaning against the doorframe.

"Cariño, come here," he murmured, gathering her into his arms. "Don't be ashamed. I love how you look."

[Dear]

"That's not how I wanted you to see me for the first time..." she finally replied, her voice wavering.

"Then I'll pretend I saw nothing," he replied with a playful lilt. "And you can show me when you're ready."

That seemed to help her as she finally relaxed into his hold, her face rubbing against his sternum.

"Is Mammon alive?"

"Barely. The oldest got him down," he replied.

"That's a turn of events. Usually Lucifer is the one stringing him up," she quipped. "He must've felt bad for Mammon." She then walked across the room.

"Bombón," Miguel called to her. She looked at him over her shoulder as she pawed through her closet. That one look alone made him feel weak. "What would you say to a date to get to know each other more?"

Her eyes shined with delight. "Sure! Any particular requests?" She seemed happy with such an ask.

"Just somewhere where we can talk privately and openly," he answered.

"I know the place."

---

"What is this?" Miguel asked.

"This is Diavolo's private beach. The brothers and I are the few who have total access to it at any time," she replied.

"Ah, so picnic on the beach?"

"Yes!" She said excitedly. They both got out of her car and walked around back to grab the blankets and takeout boxes they got on the way there.

The two walked out to the beach, just a few feet from the shoreline to find their spot. Miguel laid out the blanket and started digging down the corners so it'd stay put. Altaira set up the food, wine, and a small speaker hooked up to her D.D.D. to play music.

When the two were settled, she opened a bottle of vintage blush wine and began pouring it.

"What? No red?" He asked incredulously, but clearly joking. She rolled her eyes.

"Don't act like you care for it either. Sorry, and no cerveza for us. I prefer this," she replied. "Plus, I wanted to be a little classy."

"Rosé drinker, got it. Maybe I should call you rosíta," he replied. She smiled and bumped her shoulder against his.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

Miguel was silent for a moment, his lips pursing and staring out into the waters. Altaira got out her device and began playing soft jazz music and switching the beach setting from sunset to nighttime, the moon high in the sky to provide them with light.

"I want us to get to know each other better, and more deeply. I think it would help both of us," he answered. "I'll go first since this is my idea."

She nodded and he continued.

"I told you I lead a small elite force that watches over the multiverse to ensure its propagation," he said first. She nodded again. "I never told you why I started this team..."

He then explained what he had done in the past, and why he did it. She watched him with pinched brows, looking away every so often as if to analyze certain points he talked about. When he was done, he said,

"I try to stop others from meeting the same fate as me."

She moved away to face the waters, looking out to the ocean with a solemn face.

"I can't fault you for any of that."

He was silent, waiting for more.

"But...?"

"There's no but," she murmured, her eyes cast downward then. "You have to make hard decisions, and you tried to do something to find happiness, only leading to destruction. I get it."

"You sound..."

"Heartbroken," she replied quietly.

"Why?"

It was her turn to look away, her face harshly pensive.

"Because that's something I can't give you. I can't give anyone," she answered with a bitter bite to her tone. Her head turned slightly as she looked at him in her preferal. "Have you heard what they call me? The demons?"

"What?"

---

Thanks for reading<3

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @delphi-dreamin @itsmeninerz @bite-sized-devil

[paulisded]

The Ledge #557: 1998

It's always shocking when you stumble upon tweets or articles noting the anniversary of beloved albums. You can't help but wonder how something that seems like it came out yesterday is actually...well, old!

That's the case with tonight's show. Every single song you hear is 25 years old. It's just insane to me that some of my favorite Americana (Son Volt, Golden Smog, Drive-By Truckers), power pop (Sloan, Tommy Keene, Nada Surf), singer/songwriter (Elliott Smith, Silver Jews), and punk (Fugazi, Screeching Weasel, Bad Religion) records have hit this milestone. It just doesn't feel like nostalgia

As for the "52 Weeks of Teenage Kicks" entry, I've got a fabulous rarity. 1998 saw the release of Scandal Controvery and Romance, the classic debut record by The Prissteens. To celebrate the 45th birthday of their A&R rep, Howard Thompson, the pressed up 45 copies of a tribute song called "Oh Howard!". The b-side of this single was their Undertones cover that featured a few lyrical changes and retitled "Teenage Dicks". (Both of these tracks were eventually reissued on 2020's The Hound collection of rarities and demos.)

Once again, I'm always actively looking for new covers of "Teenage Kicks". Please don't hesitate to create your own personal spin on one of the greatest songs of all time. Contact me at paulisded@gmail.com if you have a version to submit or if you have any questions regarding this project.

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD THE SHOW!

1. The Pristeens, Teenage Dicks

2. The Pristeens, (I'd Go The) Whole Wide World

3. Liz Phair, Polyester Bride

4. Hole, Heaven Tonight

5. Sonic Youth, Sunday

6. Son Volt, Medicine Hat

7. Billy Bragg & Wilco, Hoodoo Voodoo

8. Golden Smog, Until You Came Along

9. Drive-By Truckers, Buttholeville

10. Cracker, Seven Days

11. Elliott Smith, Waltz #2 (Xo)

12. The Halo Benders, Your Asterisk

13. Grant Lee Buffalo, Truly, Truly

14. Silver Jews, Honk If You're Lonely

15. Tommy Keene, Long Time Missing

16. You Am I, The Cream And The Crock

17. Sloan, Iggy & Angus

18. Nada Surf, Hyperspace

19. The Jesus & Mary Chain, I Love Rock 'n' Roll

20. Bob Mould, New #1

21. Frank Black & The Catholics, Do You Feel Bad About It?

22. The Fleshtones, I Wanna Feel Something Now

23. Reverend Horton Heat, Lie Detector

24. Nashville Pussy, Go Motherfucker Go

25. Rocket From The Crypt, I Know

26. Archers Of Loaf, Perfect Time

27. The Mr. T Experience, I Just Want to Have Something to Do

28. Screeching Weasel, Beat on the Brat

29. The Vindictives, Suzy Is A Headbanger

30. Fugazi, Place Position

31. Bad Religion, All Fantastic Images

32. Jets To Brazil, Resistance Is Futile

33. Rancid, Hoover Street

[cutup4ngels]

HAPPY BIRTHDYAU RAY TORO I LOVEYOUB

[momolady]

The Soldier: Part One

A story about love, loss, war, and the curses that can infect the people those concepts touch. This is a dark romance with some horror elements, but it’s been one of my favorite pieces to write.

Corinne had never been blessed with patience - it was foreign to her anxious disposition. And due to having a rich family, doted on and spoiled by her loving parents, she never had to wait long for things anyway. Her father Xavier was a renowned doctor, while her mother came from a very respected family. It wasn’t until her mother died that Corinne grew out of her spoiled ways and learned to mend her own things, tend a garden, and help her father mind the books. But patience still didn’t come easy for her.

When war was declared, Corinne became engaged to a student of her father’s, Nathaniel St. Clair. When he was enlisted, she promised to wait for him. But then, her father, too, was called out onto the battlefields, his skills needed to save the young men fighting. Corinne was left alone at home, waiting in the suffering of her own anxious mind. She had heard stories and read the papers, no matter how much her guardian, Mrs. Rothchester, tried to keep from her. She waited by the windows, hoping to catch sight of someone, anyone, returning home.

“You sit by that draughty window all day, you’ll catch your death of cold!” Mrs. Rothschild fussed at Corinne, who was working her fingers to the bone knitting. She’d knit to distract her mind, any and every kind of scarf or blanket or hat, often donating her projects to families who needed the extra warmth.

“I won’t catch a cold, Mrs. Rothschild,” she sighed. “I’m fine.”

Mrs. Rothschild went to the window and closed the curtains. This earned her a scowl from Corinne, who stood and opened them again with a huff. “You know I have to see!”

“I know you have better things to do than fret all day. Watching a kettle doesn’t make it boil, nor does watching that road make anyone come home.” Mrs. Rothschild sighed, believing that Corinne would worry herself sick. “You need to get up and do something. What good is sitting here going to do anyone?”

Corinne set down her needles and glanced outside. It had rained all night, and now the slick, muddy track to the house was shrouded in thick fog. Her eyes focused on the fog, trying to project an image upon the gray that would take shape as a person. When she could not, she picked up her knitting again. She had heard stories of soldiers being turned into monsters, living weapons used to kill large numbers of men, while being oblivious to pain. The thought of it made her needles move faster.

Mrs. Rothschild sighed in frustration and returned to the kitchen to fetch Corinne’s lunch. The staff in the house had thinned since the war started. All the men had gone save for Mr. Rothschild, who was far too old to enlist, and Lewis the stableboy who was far too young. The Rothchilds’ daughter had gone to war as a nurse, and one of the maids had vanished in the night not long before the fighting started.

“How’s the girl?” Mr. Rothschild asked as he stepped away from the stove to fill the teapot.

“She still won’t leave that blasted window,” Mrs. Rothschild scoffed. “I fear she’ll go mad like her mother did.”

Mr. Rothschild shushed his wife. “Hold your tongue. She could be listening.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you not hear me? She’s not leaving that window! I could talk all day about her mad mother and she’d never hear me here.” Mrs. Rothschild sliced some chicken, placing it on toasted bread. “How many chickens do we have left?”

“Lewis said five, but he knows where to get a rooster.” Mr. Rothschild answered.

Mrs. Rothschild sighed heavily. “It’s a choice between eggs and chicken now, is it?”

“At least with chickens we can get two, maybe three meals,” her husband answered. “Keep the bones, make the stock, and what’s left on the bones can be used for mash.”

“But eggs go in nearly every meal,” Mrs. Rothschild fretted. “I’ll talk to Corinne and see if we can spare something to get that rooster.”

“I don’t think Lewis will need money for this rooster,” Mr. Rothschild replied cheekily. “I think it’s more of a… scrounging situation.”

“As long as he doesn't get caught again,” Mrs. Rothschild grumbled. She had just picked up the tray when an ear-splitting scream rang through the house. She jumped with the tray, causing a teacup to crash to the floor.

“Mrs. Rothschild!” Corinne came racing down the stairs, skirts in her fists as she raced toward the front doors.

“Good lord,” Mrs. Rothschild grumbled irritably under her breath. “Calm down! You’ll break your neck!” She chased after Corinne, who had already thrown open the doors and was grinning from ear to ear. “Get inside! What are you on about? You gave everyone in this damn house such a fright with all your…” She stopped when she finally looked into the yard. The gate was open, and a carriage was coming to the door. “My word, it can’t be.”

Corinne broke free of her grasp, rushing out to the carriage as it came to a halt. She bounced with joy when her father’s face appeared. He emerged, stepping down into her wide-open arms. “Oh, my sweet thing!” Dr. Marfont sighed. “How wonderful to see you.”

“I knew it was you!” Corinne sobbed as she held him.

“Biscuit,” Dr. Marfont said gently to her. “I need you to go and prepare the guest bedroom for me.”

“What for?” Corinne asked. “Are you expecting someone?” She peered into the carriage, where a stretcher with a body on top had been laid along one seat. “Oh!”

Dr. Marfont nodded to Corinne. “This young man needs long-term care and there is nowhere else in this world I can care for him. I bonded with the fellow, so I brought him with me until he can heal.”

“I’ll go and fetch Mr. Rothschild to help you get him inside. Then I’ll make sure the guest room is prepared.” Corinne tried to peer more closely at the young man in the carriage, but all she could see was his arm and long, elegant hand.

“Thank you, Biscuit.” Dr. Marfont kissed the top of her head. “We’ll celebrate when I get him settled.”

“That would be wonderful!” Corinne quickly returned to the doors and took Mrs. Rothschild by the arm. “He’s brought an injured soldier with him.”

“We can barely feed ourselves, and he brings a soldier home?” Mrs. Rothschild scoffed. “I swear, he’s done this constantly since he married your mother.”

Corinne gave her a sweet smile. “We need to go and prepare the guest room, and my father needs your husband’s help to get him in.”

Mrs. Rothschild just rolled her eyes. “You go put up the guest room. I’ll hurry my husband along.”

“Thank you.” Corinne walked off down the hallway to the guest room. It hadn’t been used in ages, not since war started. The room was dusty and the air was stale, so Corinne opened a window. As she pulled back the covers on the bed, a spider crawled out and she screamed. She struck the bed over and over again with an ornamental pillow, but the spider had vanished.

“What was that noise?” Mrs. Rothschild came into the room, pulling the old sheets off the bed to put on new ones.

“Nothing.” Corinne was ashamed of her fear, so she didn’t bring it up and instead helped Mrs. Rothschild to change the bed for the soldier. “I wonder what happened to him?” she murmured. “It must have been something terrible if my father had to bring him here.”

“Best not to think of it. Lots of horrible things can happen during war. Gun wounds, amputations, burns…” Mrs. Rothschild shuddered and shook her head. “It’s best you keep your mind away from those things.”

Corinne looked up to the door as her father and Mr. Rothschild came into the room, carrying the stretcher. She scurried behind Mrs. Rothschild, keeping her eyes down as the two men lowered the stretcher onto the bed, allowing the young man to roll himself onto the clean sheets. “I don’t want anyone touching him,” Dr. Marfont instructed as he tucked the soldier into bed. “I will tend to his wounds and bandaging. All I need is for one of you to deliver his meals and medicine when I can’t. Other than that, he is not to be touched.”

“Is there something wrong with him we should know of?” Mrs. Rothschild asked. “It’s not a sickness or a rash he can spread, is it?”

“No, no, of course not,” Dr. Marfont sighed. “This young man is a hero! Saved his mates, but took a lot of shrapnel for it. He got infected from improper care, and that’s why he’s here now.”

Corinne peeked around Mrs. Rothschild, seeing the young man in bed with bandages all over him, including his face. “He looks so pale,” Mrs. Rothschild remarked.

“You would be too, after what he’s been through,” the doctor laughed. “Now, come along. Let’s allow him to rest in peace. I want to see my Biscuit.”

Corinne stepped out, racing into her father’s arms. “I’ve missed you so much!” she said as they left the room. “You hadn’t written in so long, I became terrified of the worst!”

“A lot of mail hasn’t been getting through. If you have not heard from Nathaniel either, that could be the reason.” Dr. Marfront went to the parlor, and groaned as he sank into a chair. “I haven’t had a seat since I went to the front line hospital,” he complained.

“Was it really that bad?” Corinne asked.

“Sometimes worse. There would be times I didn’t know that days had passed.” He settled himself and straightened his back. “I think things will be coming to an end soon. More talks of peace have been spreading.”

“We can only hope so!” Mrs. Rothschild enthused. “I’ll go fetch some tea. Do you need anything to eat, Doctor?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Rothschild. I want rest more than I want food,” Dr. Marfont sighed.

Once Mrs. Rothschild was gone, Corinne got up and sat at her father’s feet, placing her head on his lap. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Dr. Marfont stroked the top of her head gently. “So am I, Biscuit. I’m sure you won’t have to worry much longer either. Nathaniel should be returning home soon as well.”

“That would bring me such joy, to have everyone I love returned home.” Corinne sighed and glanced out into the hall at the closed door of the guest bedroom. “Who is he, father?” she asked quietly. “The soldier you brought home.”

“Lockwood is his name.” The doctor spoke almost dismissively. “I grew quite fond of him. He’s a good man, like I said. A hero.”

“Lockwood,” Corinne murmured. “What else do you know of him? Where is he from? What was he doing before the war?”

Dr. Marfont patted the top of her head. “There’s no reason for you to worry about that, my love. I just ask you to treat him kindly. He’s earned it.”

Corinne looked back at the door. Her father’s answers did nothing to placate her curiosity, and her mind wandered freely about the soldier. She pictured him standing tall and manly, with his long, graceful hands holding a sword or musket, fair and dark-haired, his features sharp but gentle. Like someone in one of her old books.

That evening after dinner, Corinne was tasked with delivering Mr. Lockwood his meal and medicine. She stood before the guest room door, wondering if she should knock, but she simply let herself in, gazing through the dark room. No candles or lanterns had been lit, and the space was shrouded in gloom. “Hello?” Her voice trembled. “I’ve brought you something to eat.” She stepped inside, seeing Lockwood’s shape in the bed, but no other features. “Sir? Are you awake?”

A deep intake of breath answered her call, and the blankets on the bed stirred. “That’s not a voice I am familiar with.” His voice was surprisingly melodic. “Who goes there?”

“Corinne,” she chirped. “Corinne Marfont.”

“The doctor’s daughter, then.” Lockwood murmured. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Corinne swallowed hard. “Are you hungry, sir?”

“I’m not sure,” Lockwood’s voice was strained. “I’ve not known myself since I was placed in your father’s care.”

“Should I light a candle?” Corinne offered.

Lockwood took another labored breath. “No. It’s fine this way. Don’t waste a candle on me, young lady,” he chuckled. “I don’t think there’s much left to see, anyway.”

Corinne set the tray at the bedside, then filled a glass with water. In the shadows she could see the outline of Lockwood’s head wrapped in bandages. She was afraid of him in a way, but her curiosity drew her near. “You poor thing. Try to eat something” She placed her hand on the pale, bare skin of his arm and he flinched, so instead she picked up the bowl of soup and stirred it. “I’ll help you.” Her hand shook as she lifted the full spoon into the air.

Lockwood sighed. “You’re very kind, but I can take care of myself.”

“Let me help,” Corinne insisted. “My father said…”

“I told him not to bring me here,” Lockwood said in a low voice. “I didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. If I died, I died, and it would have been a blessing either way. Don’t fret over me, my lady. I do not ask for it.”

Corinne set the spoon back into the bowl. “Why would you want to die?”

Lockwood chuckled. “It’s not something I should discuss with you, my lady. I would hate to make you cry in any way.”

“Mr. Lockwood…” Corinne heard her father coming down the hall. She stood up, still holding the bowl of soup as he came into the room.

“Biscuit! You’re still here?” Dr. Marfront’s voice held a stern edge. “You don’t need to bother Mr. Lockwood, darling.”

“It’s fine, doctor,” Lockwood replied. “I don’t want to be bothersome.”

Dr. Marfont took the soup from Corinne. “Go on to bed, Biscuit. I’ll be taking care of Mr. Lockwood’s bandages now. You don’t need to be seeing this.” He led her to the door and kissed her cheek. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, father,” she said softly. She then peered back into the room. “Good night to you as well, Mr. Lockwood.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Mr. Lockwood sighed.

Corinne went to her room and prepared herself for bed, her mind spinning with questions about Lockwood - his soft, gentle voice, the wrappings on his face, his desire for death. They all cluttered her mind until it was very hard for her to find sleep. As the days went by, she insisted on being the one who cared for Lockwood. She took him his meals and administered his medicine, but while she had rehearsed countless conversations in her head, she could never muster the courage to speak to him. At least, not the way she wanted to.

“It’s so kind of you to look after me, my lady,” Lockwood said one day after she had given him his medicine. “It’s good to have a gentle touch here and there.”

“I promised my father,” Corinne said quietly. She wanted to say more, but she could barely answer him at all.

“It means the world to me, regardless.” Lockwood turned his head away towards the window. “It’s rained since I got here, hasn’t it?”

Corinne watched him, seeing dark hair through the wrappings on his head. His neck was long and elegant, and the curve from his to his shoulder was quite beautiful. His skin was so pale she could almost count the blue veins underneath pressing towards the surface.

“It was raining before you arrived.” Her eyes were focused on that expanse of flesh, so different from Nathaniel’s, which was bronzed, hairy, and sinewy.

“Was it?” Lockwood’s fingers moved back and forth along the coverlet, stroking it to feel the softness of the fabric. “It must be a boring time for you.”

“Not so much. I’ve been worried far too much these days to notice.” Corrine picked up the few dishes Lockwood had eaten from and set them aside.

“About your fiancé?” Lockwood asked.

Corinne stilled, tracing her finger around the rim of a teacup. “And my father.”

“Your father said he was a doctor, too. A student of his.” Lockwood turned his head so he could see Corinne. Her hair was down, falling in ringlets along her shoulders and back, and the deep red color and her dark brown eyes were the same as her mother’s. She had freckles all over her face, shoulders and chest, which she desperately tried to keep covered. She was small enough to be mistaken for a child. Dr. Marfont had said she reminded him of a rabbit, small, helpless and nervous. “You’re very lucky,” Lockwood said gently.

Corinne turned and gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Mr. Lockwood.” She returned to his bedside, sitting down on the stool there. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“I’m sure you must have better things to worry about, my lady,” Lockwood murmured. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“It’s raining, so there’s not much else for me to do.” Corinne gave him another smile. “Besides, I’d hate to think you were lonesome here.”

Lockwood sighed heavily, but not from any pain. He sighed from a faintness in his heart caused by Corinne’s kindness and beauty. He had been drawn to stories of her told by Dr. Marfont, and seeing her outside his imagination made him even more fond of her. “Perhaps you could read a book to me?” he asked. “A chapter a day until the rain stops, perhaps?”

Corinne nodded. “Certainly. I’ll be right back.” She left the guest room and went across the hall to the parlor, where all the books were kept. She found one on the shelf that held stories inside about fairies, legends her mother had read to her when she was small. She returned to Lockwood’s side, turning to the first story. “There was a knight who had great strength because his soul was chained to the devil.”

Corinne would read to Lockwood every day after this, telling him story after story from the book. It helped to ease her nerves around him, and slowly, she began to talk to him more.

“I did nothing much before the war. I was a nobody,” Lockwood told her. “I worked for a large home, but it’s nothing worth talking about.”

“What sort of family did you work for?” Corinne asked.

Lockwood laughed. “I told you, it’s not worth talking about.” He reached out, placing his hand over Corinne’s. “They were good to me, but there was an accident that made me leave just before the war.”

“What happened?” Corinne was intrigued.

“Never you mind, my lady.” Lockwood squeezed her hand gently.

“Can you tell me about the war?” she murmured. “No one will let me know anything about it. They think I’m feeble or something.” She held onto his hand as if he could run away from her questions. “What did you do out there? Did you shoot someone?”

“My lady,” Lockwood started to say, but he held himself back. “What I did out there, the action in the field, I don’t think…”

“I want to know,” Corinne said urgently. “I hear stories and I don’t know what to believe.”

Lockwood sighed. “There are things you shouldn’t know, my lady.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s dark and ugly, even in daylight. There is blood and rot everywhere you look, lives destroyed, shadows made real. It’s not worth it to put that on your mind. I know how you linger on things.”

Corinne leaned in again and held Lockwood’s hand with both of hers. “I like talking to you. I like being here with you.” She smoothed her hand down his arm. “It’s nice having a friend around again. The house has been so empty for a long time.”

Lockwood sighed heavily. “Be careful how you touch me.”

“I’m sorry.” She moved a hand away. “Am I hurting you?”

“The opposite,” Locwood murmured.

Corinne’s heart throbbed inside her chest, and she placed her hand on him again. She stroked his arm, moving it to that expanse of flesh between his neck and shoulder. Lockwood moaned out of fear, turning himself closer to her fingertips. “I care for you, Mr. Lockwood,” she said softly to him.

“I care for you, Corinne.” His lips parted as she touched him. “But do be careful. Your hands are my weakness.”

She smiled with pride, slipped closer to him, and pressed a small kiss against the part of his jaw that was not covered by bandages.

Lockwood gasped. His mouth opened, and inside she saw the flash of sharp fangs hidden behind his lips. His tongue looked strange as well, almost as if it were split down the middle. He settled, turning his head away and clearing his throat. “I told you to be gentle.”

“I thought I was.” Corinne cupped his cheek, turning him back to face her. “Mr. Lockwood, forgive me.”

She pressed her lips to his. His body jerked, and his hand grabbed her arm harshly, digging into the skin. She pulled back, swooning from the kiss. “I can’t forgive you for that,” Lockwood rasped. He stretched out his long neck, kissing her again.

Corinne moaned softly, then pulled away as she heard voices down the hall. “Corinne!” Mrs. Rothschild yelled from the kitchen.

“Blast her,” Corinne huffed. “I have to go now.” She smoothed down her skirt then tried to cool her cheeks. She didn’t want to look too flushed when going to the kitchen.

“Take care now,” Lockwood said with a smile. “I’ll think of you until next time.”

Corinne smiled, waving to him with a cheeky smile on her face. As she entered the hallway, she came across her father. “Did you hear Mrs. Rothschild calling for you, Biscuit?” he asked.

“Yes, father. I was heading that way to help her in the kitchen.” She blushed, wondering if her kiss with Lockwood was still evident on her lips. She licked them, finding his taste was still there.

“I’ll be a little late,” her father said. “I have to change Mr. Lockwood's bandages and give him an examination. So don’t wait for me.”

“I’ll let Mrs. Rothschild know,” Corinne said.

Lockwood lay in his bed, taking short breaths. His skin crawled, and he looked down to see a spider on his chest. He raised his hand to strike it, but the spider crawled under the bandages on his chest. He struggled, clawing at the bandages in fear as his head spun and his vision blurred. He looked up to see the painting of Mrs. Marfont over the mantel glaring viciously at him. He shed tears, tearing at the bandages while sickness boiled in his core.

“Calm yourself!” Dr. Marfont came through the fog and held back his hands, forcing them down.

“Spider!” Lockwood gasped.

“Spider?” Dr. Marfont fought Lockwood’s hands back down again.

“Bandages…” Lockwood wheezed.

Dr. Marfont unraveled the bandages on Lockwood’s chest and the small spider fell out, scurrying across the sheets and disappearing under the bed. Lockwood fell back against the bed, shaking, trying to suppress his nausea. Dr. Marfont removed the rest of the bandages, exposing Lockwood’s bosom. “I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up.” He checked around Lockwood’s ribs and his breasts just to make sure. There were bruises and healing wounds, but nothing out of the ordinary. “Once you’re healed, I fear you’ll be discovered for what you really are.”

Lockwood laid there, breathing and shaking. “I’ll be found out for many things, doctor. Not just that.”

Dr. Marfront took his bag, pulling out the syringe and bottle of medicine. “Stay still,” he coaxed. “Same as always.”

He took Lockwood’s arm, injecting the medicine. Lockwood shook, grimacing and gritting his teeth through the pain. His veins pulsed dark, pressing tightly against the skin before fading away to blue again. “Doctor,” Lockwood croaked, placing his hand over his breasts to cover them. “Thank you.”

“You do not need to thank me every time. I don’t even think what I am doing is helping,” he sighed heavily. He took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

He had met Lockwood several months ago in the hospital. He’d been working for days straight and was resting near the doors when a soldier was brought in by members of his squadron. He’d taken direct fire to allow his comrades to escape, and was somehow still breathing. Dr. Marfont took the young man in despite his exhaustion, giving him his own bed in order to operate. But the doctor was shocked to discover the soldier was a woman in disguise. He didn’t alert anyone else, but instead he operated, saving her life and promising to protect her - a promise which attached her to him as he returned home.

“You’re helping, doctor,” Lockwood assured him. “What I agreed to is what is hurting me.”

Dr. Marfont sighed heavily, rubbing his hands together before taking out clean bandages. He had Lockwood sit up, wrapping them around until there was no sign of his breasts. “War creates monsters,” he murmured. “I just wish it didn’t make them out of the ones we cared about.”

Lockwood took a deep breath. “Once I‘m better, I’ll leave.”

Dr. Marfont was quiet again. He wanted to keep Lockwood safe, but he also didn’t want to expose him to his family, his home. “Whatever works out best,” was all he could say.

Lockwood lay in bed after the doctor left, gazing through the thin bandages around his eyes. The light that came through the window seemed to fade to grey, and there was a shape standing there, a woman. Lockwood reached out, feeling nothing but cold air. They turned their head away and lay there, listening as the rain returned.

[maxwell-grant]

Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one. 

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction. 

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else. 

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea  considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play? 

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

[laur-rants]

Some of my favorite bits from Part 1 (◡‿◡✿)

hehe there are SPOILERS under the cut, Silly!

1-- Warfstache ending. This was the best bit for me so far. So good, and he looks like he does from Wilford ‘Motherloving Warfstache’! Just one of the biggest pieces of evidence that we will be seeing things that pertain to WKM later in Part 2.I’m VERY excited about that fact.

2- Warfstache ending DEUX -- I actually think I forgot to plot out this ending specifically. But this one ends with the Narrator asking what we were doing here, looking for some sort of EASTER EGG? Well here it is-- and it gives us a Warfstche mask from the end of, --again--!! Wilford ‘Motherloving’ Warfstache. Insane! Absolutely insane. Two references to one of my favorite story videos Mark ever did. How could I not love this?

3- Space is so cool overture. I get sparkly eyes every time

4- Finding the secret image of Abe. MORE WKM. MORE WARFSTACHE. WE ARE THE DA. 8))))

5- I’m 10000% convinced that, in the ones where we have to Put out the fire and THIS happens:

The person tentatively saying “Captain?” is 1000% DAMIEN/DARK. All of the signs are from someone else, trying so many times to get the loop to stop. But the voice, the inflection Mark uses.... I’m convinced. That’s one of our few “glimpses” of Damien.

6-- Any time someone said ‘that’s not me, that’s not me” and there was a whisper or a voice behind us, I think, once again, That was Damien/Celine/Dark trying to get through to us. I think the entity of the fake Lady was a projection of Darkiplier towards us, but they still can’t reach us.

6.5-- Also pretty sure Mrs. Whitacre is connected to Dark/Damien. One of the post-it notes in ‘Put er in Reverse’ linked Doline and Celci, and Celci is CLEARLY an analog for Celine. Which means.... DOLINE is probably a link to Damien, and, well.... :) cmon damien, you can stop pretending, we know its you and Actor is just trying to keep you from breaking all the way through.

7-- Actor Mark ending. only One month left of parole, huh buddy? Funny.... because part 2 comes out in..... 28 days Smile :)))

8-- ILLINOIS SUPRISE! that was amazing.

9-- Ed’s dead body from Heist. Hilarious touch that they still had that prop. Loved it.

10-- CHICAAAAAA

11-- The Tuna Fish/PBJ sandwich ending somehow survived. Incredible.

12-- The Horror and Romance novels we get to look forward to, hinted that they’ll be in Part 2. Love a good callback to Date. :D

13-- Chef callback. uwu

14-- All the rest really! There’s probably something I’m missing, there always is, but I was left really satisfied by this. Mark should be INSANELY PROUD. This was incredible, and I look forward to Part 2!!!

[mgsapphire]

My K-drama recommendation master list part 1

I've recently found that people who just got into k-dramas don't know where to start, and more often than not, feel overwhelmed by all the content.

Before I give my recommendations, I'm going to say where I watch my k-dramas and how I watch them (and legality of it)

My main source of content are Netflix and Viki (VPNs may come in handy). In Viki, there are some shows available for free with ads, but they have different plans. I have the highest plan (by volunteering) and in Netflix, well, there is a category for k-dramas.

Now, I won't talk about cdramas in this post, but I will talk about other sites I use to watch content, and well, most of them are for cdramas.

Qiyi (I used it for a while, but you're not missing much without it)

YouTube (you can watch cdramas and Thai dramas legally and completely free as studios upload them to their YouTube channel)

Dramacool (now, this one I use sparingly and for watching a variety show mostly, as it's not legal, but it's free and safe. THIS IS A LAST RESORT, ALWAYS TRY TO SUPPORT THE CONTENT)

Moving on to what you actually came here for, my kdrama recommendations, according to themes and genres.

If you're an absolute beginner, here are my recs (and they don't include boys over flowers)

The Legend of the Blue Sea (2016) It has Lee Min Ho and Jun Ji Hyun as the main leads, it's 20 episodes long with an special, most episodes lasting less than an hour. It's a modern fantasy romantic comedy. On a personal note, it's probably my most rewatched k-drama. Available in Viki with no membership needed.

Kiss Goblin (2020) This one is a short web drama, following the theme of modern fantasy romance. While the quality of production might not be as great as other dramas listed here, this is one of the most wholesome k-dramas you will see. It's 12 episodes long, each shorter than 15 minutes, and also available to watch for free on Viki.

Coffee Prince (2007) A true classic among k-dramas, starring two iconic Korean leads; Gong Yoo and Yoon Eun Hye. While some of the tropes are problematic, and some overdone (Although they were the first to do them), this is, in my opinion, one of the best classics out there. It's 17 episodes long, each one lasting an hour or a little bit more. It's a romantic comedy available on viki plus.

Not into romance? A little bit more of a med drama myself, here are my recs

Being right on S2 D-day, my top all around k-drama recommendation: Hospital Playlist (2020) is a drama about a group of 5 doctors and their daily life in the hospital. It's more accurate than most shows I've seen, and it doesn't glamourize medical life in any way. The first season is 12 episodes long, each lasting on average 1:20 hours, except for the last one, which is nearly two hours long. Available on Netflix.

D-Day (2015) is a disaster med drama, which tells the story of doctors struggling to continue on after a catastrophical earthquake in Korea (Fictional of course). It's 20 episodes long, with each episode lasting about an hour. Available on viki.

Dr. Romantic (2016 & 2020) There are two series, I prefer the first one, but they both hold good on their own. It's a good k-drama to pass the time, but it does grow repetitive on the second series. Available with VIki Pass Plus. Dr Romantic has 21 episodes lasting about an hour, and Dr. Romantic 2 has 16 episodes with about the same length.

But... I want an entertaining law drama. Don't worry, I got you

Lawless Lawyer (2018) a slightly biased because Lee Joon Gi is my absolute fav, and is just so bingeworthy. It's 16 episodes long action packed law drama. It's honestly one of the best. Available on Viki.

Law School (2021) also slightly biased because Kim Bum is also one of my favs, but this one touches on so many social issues, and is just so bingeworthy. It's 16 episodes long , each one lasting a little over an hour. It also has one of the best written leads I've seen. Available on Netflix.

Fine, but I like to suffer and cry my eyes out. Well, get your tissues out, because I have some for you.

Move to Heaven (2021) will make you cry every episode, and will leave you devoid of tears by the end of it. It's 10 episodes long, each one lasting on average an hour. Available on Netflix.

Rain or Shine (2017) is a love story filled with sorrow, and pain. It didn't make me cry, but it's really freaking sad at times. It's 16 episodes long, each one lasting like 75 minutes. Available on Viki.

Hi, Bye Mama (2020) is about a dead mother seeing the world move on. Pretty freaking sad. I cried most of the episodes.

A Piece of Your Mind (2020) Look, the premise of this story is about trying to preserve the human mind, and about grief and moving on. It's 12 episodes long, each one lasting around 70 minutes. Available on viki.

Mr. Sunshine (2018) I'll put it like this, this one is one of my favorites, and I still can't bring myself to watch it again, because the ending left me feeling all sort of feelings for weeks. It's 24 episodes long, each one lasting about 80 minutes.

Look, all of them have been great, but can you recommend me one with strong female leads? Of course, here ya go.

Run On (2020) Look, this one has a couple that turns the overbearing CEO trope on its head. It's 16 episodes long, averaging 70 minutes per episode. Available on Netflix.

Mello is My Nature (2019) is honestly a feminist anthem. It's 16 episodes long. Available on Viki.

Search: WWW (2019) Women are at the center of the narrative, and are the ones who make the world tick. It's 16 episodes long averaging 70 minutes per episode. Available on Viki.

Hello, My Twenties (2017) It's about a girl dorm and the sorority they begin to build. It has 2 great seasons. Available on Netflix.

Weight Lifting Fairy Kim (2016) We love this romantic comedy that puts the end to a lot of cliches. It's 16 episodes long, averaging 60 minutes per episode.

Strong Woman Do Bong Soon (2017) A girl with supernatural strength, what else can I say?

I'm still reading, you haven't mentioned thrillers... Here's some for you, thank you for sticking around.

Beyond Evil (2021) A great thriller filled with plot twists, and refreshing. Available on Netflix and Viki.

Flower of Evil (2020) Lee Joon Gi is the lead, and it's a romantic thriller. An interesting concept. Available on Viki.

Dark Hole (2021) I still don't know wtf I watched, but I still watched it. Available on viki.

Forest of Secrets (2017 & 2020) One of the best thrillers out there. Available on Netflix.

Fine, you seem to find a lot of recommendations, I'll bite, what about action?

Rugal (2020) Action Sci Fi with an awesome soundtrack. Available on Netflix.

The Uncanny Counter (2020) Paranormal action...? Awesome series, my brain is turning into putty....

The K2 (2016) It took me a long time to get around to watch it, but it was worth it. Available on Netflix.

Two Weeks (2013) Third Lee Joon Gi entry, absolutely awesome. Available on Viki.

Stick around for a part 2, bc I grew too tired, and the post is already too long, and the images wouldn't load, so you're stuck with a text dump.

[sinner-as-saint]

Safe and Sound.

Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader AU

Requested.

Run-through: After the civil war, when Team Cap made peace with the rest of the Avengers, Bucky Barnes still had a lot to fix in his life. Bucky finds solace and all the answers he’s looking for in the cozy library café which you own in the middle of the busy city. He quickly becomes a regular client of yours, and through shy smiles, lengthy discussions regarding books and poetry, and leaving each other secret notes in book pages – you get attached to one another. More than you intended to.

Themes: Fluff, slight angst, a lil smutty

You heard the ding of the bell at the front door, which let you know that someone had walked into your library. You turned around and found your favorite client standing at the entrance – Bucky Barnes.

You immediately smiled at the sight of him. He was just such an interesting man, one couldn’t help but admire him no matter what he did. You watched as he carefully wiped his boots on the rug by the door before stepping in, always careful as to not make the floor all muddy given it had just rained outside.

He always came by with a coffee cup in his metal hand. And he would spend hours in your library, reading whatever you’d recommend, and whatever he didn’t have time to finish, he’d take home with him. He was a fast reader, you noticed a couple of weeks ago; he was always eager to finish a book, and his curiosity to learn and discover more could clearly be seen.

Of course, he had missed lots of works of literature over the years and now he was struggling to forget his gruesome past as the Winter Soldier, trying to find himself again to fit into the modern world better, fighting through bad memories and trauma and trying to catch up on what he missed while he wasn’t himself; reading became his favorite thing. It served as a hobby, as well as a coping mechanism. Whenever Bucky found himself going into a dark place again, he’d immediately turn to a book which you recommended and just within a few pages, he’d feel much better.

You and Bucky flirt a lot, but he’s also so respectful and polite and just the right amount of cheesy. He was a little old-fashioned, especially regarding his idea of romance and his take on modern romantic novels, but that was one of the many things you liked about him. He was an interesting man, and great company.

You liked him quite a lot. And he liked you back. But neither of you ever made the first step. You were too shy and he didn’t feel like you belonged with someone who has a past like his. But regardless, he had been catching feelings for you. You reminded him that there was still good left in this world; your gentleness, how tender you were with your voice and how selfless and loving you were when interacting with your clients.  

Bucky knew he would never be able to let you go. Some days, while you were busy with others or arranging the many shelves in your library, when you paid no attention to him; Bucky’s eyes would follow you discretely. He often daydreamed about what life could be like for him if you were his. Someone he could trust. Someone to come home to. Someone who would care.

Bucky liked you a lot. He liked how you hummed under your breath as you walked around, working. He liked the colors you wore very often; tan coats, and soft sweaters, and golden jewelry. Bucky had been around for a long while, and he had seen his fair share of beautiful women, but he still thought you were the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on.

A couple of words from you, and he was under your spell like it was nothing.

 As for you, Bucky Barnes was not just a super soldier, he was the man who was slowly developing a love for reading, and he was also the man who could make your heart flutter just by looking into your eyes with those deep blue orbs.

Cream colored sweaters, messy hair, he was always a lovely sight. You still remembered the first time he walked into your library months ago;

-flashback-

Gloomy day. But the occasional soft murmurs of everyone scattered around your library café helped maintain the faint smile on your face. You were rearranging the modern fiction shelf, humming quietly under your breath when suddenly you noticed there was complete silence.

No soft murmurs, no fingernails hitting phone screens furiously, no pages turning, nothing. You moved from behind the shelf and approached the front desk, where you usually sat. And there he was, James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, ex fist of HYDRA; standing at the door of your library.

Dark jacket over his sweater, his metal arm tucked in the pocket of his jeans and a coffee in his hand. You were certain all eyes were on him for two main reasons; one being that he was part of the Avengers team, hence intimidating, and second, because he was drop dead gorgeous.

None of his pictures did him justice, you thought as you took in his broad, and muscular frame. Dark hair and blue eyes; he looked like he had been handcrafted by the Gods.

You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him because none of the Avengers ever swung by, despite your library café being well-known in the city. And to have one of the strongest man in the city walk into your café was not something which happened very often. Or ever really.

You felt bad for a minute because you saw how he shifted nervously under everyone’s gaze. He must hate the attention. So you decided to ease the tension.

“Mr. Barnes, come on in.” you smiled warmly at him, like you did with all your other clients. And you could feel the tension in the air beginning to diminish immediately. Almost everyone stopped staring at him, because given the way you greeted him, they thought he must be a regular client of yours – harmless despite his slightly rough demeanor.

Bucky Barnes gave you a faint smile and took some steps in. But not before wiping his slight wet boots on the rug. He was so thoughtful, not wanting to soil your floor. He walked up to the desk and looked around, seeming a little lost.

“Welcome, Mr. Barnes. How may I help you?” you kept the soft smile on your face.

He looked down at the floor for a moment, smiling to himself. “Sorry I just… it’s been forever since I stepped into a library.”

Something about that sentence made your chest hurt. He seemed so lost in this big, modern city. You knew all about him, and his past; you had read multiple articles about it. He was one of the most talked about members of the Avengers, especially since the recent fall out between Stark and Rogers. But thankfully the heroes had worked it out, and the team was whole again.

You nodded slowly. “That’s alright, Mr. Barnes. We can ease you into it. There’s no need to rush, I have all the time in the world.” he lifted his head up to look at you once he heard your words. Warmth and kindness was still new to him, and very much welcomed.

“Thank you.”

 And that was the beginning of a friendship which then became so much more. Bucky formed an instant connection with you. Your warmth, your easy-going manner, your humor and kindness; it was all he never knew he craved.

And to you, he was no longer just a client anymore. He was someone you looked forward to seeing each day. He became a habit. The image of him walking into the huge glass doors of your library became your new favorite thing.

-end of flashback-

 “Hey, doll.” he greeted you the same way each time, with a faint smile.

Your smile stretched wider at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Bucky. Finished your book?” you asked, and as always, he nodded and chuckled.

“Finished it just last night.” he said proudly. “What do you have for me next?” he asked, handing you over the book he took last time, just two days ago.

You typed on your computer for a second then looked up at him, “Depends, how did you like Miss Clark?”

He chuckled looking right into your eyes with his stormy blue eyes. “She reminds me of you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully. “Does she now?” you playfully teased. And Bucky gave you a handsome smile.

“Maybe you should read the book again. You’ll see what I mean.” He smirked and you knew that smirk all too well.

You and Bucky had this thing you did where you’d leave each other cheesy notes in books. You’d leave the notes in books which you recommended him, and he’d leave his notes in books which he returned you, and that had been going on for quite some weeks now. Most of the notes were sweet and flirty, some much cheesier than others.

You smiled at him. “Alright then, go get yourself a seat. I’ll bring you some books.”

Bucky lingered for a few more seconds, just gazing at you and making your heart flutter before he finally went away to his usual seat; at the furthest corner, by the art pieces and the large window. You watched him for a brief second, how he sipped on his coffee and looked out the window, staring at the world he often wondered if he belonged in.

You went back towards the shelves and opened the book. And as per usual, you found the piece of parchment paper he always left you. There, scribbled in messy handwriting was the note he left you;

-‘… you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning.’

He had left you a quote from the book itself today, like he did often. And your face felt hot and you smiled like a kid in love as you read, and re-read, the note over and over again. You couldn’t help but think of the day he had told you something quite similar; “You know, coming here and talking to you is the best part of my days.”

You blushed as you walked over to select some books for your favorite client. The fact that you two always flirted through notes in secrecy made you giddy. Bucky was an old soul, and he was an old-fashioned romantic and you had absolutely no problem with that. If anything, these secretive notes from him felt much, much more special than any text would.

You moved to the poetry section and looked for one of your favorites which he hadn’t read yet. You smiled as you found the collection and you quickly searched for a pen and a piece of parchment – which you had bought and kept solely to leave notes for Bucky.

You wrote down the two verses of one of your favorite poems and slipped the piece of parchment in before handing him the books;

“Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;

And love is love, in beggars and in kings.”

 You were undeniably falling for the metal-armed soldier. And him, you. Even though neither of you admitted it, nor confessed your true feelings to one another.

---

Two days later, Bucky came by not even a minute after you opened, no other clients were here yet. No coffee in hand, red eyes, looking like he had had a rough night and barely any sleep. Soft beige sweater, and messy hair – he looked handsome regardless.

“Hi Bucky. What’s wrong?” you asked softly, approaching him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

One look into your eyes and he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in for a hug he desperately needed. Wrapping his strong arms around you and placing his head on your shoulder, he sighed loudly. “I had a nightmare. I don’t know where else to go.” He mumbled and you felt your heart tearing in half.

You wrapped your arms around his immediately, rubbing your hand softly up and down his back. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” You hugged him back as tight as you could, for as long as he needed.

There, in the middle of your library on a gloomy morning, Bucky found comfort. Your hug felt like balm for a wound he had for way too long now, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to let you go.

You placed your chin on his shoulder and felt his body heat wrap around you. You cracked a faint smile as you caught your reflection on the nearby mirror. A strong man, broad and brawny like Bucky; seeking comfort from you. Quite an unusual sight, but you definitely something you could get used to.

You held him still, and spoke up. “You wanna go get coffee together?”

He groaned quietly, still wrapped in your arms like a big baby. “No, I don’t wanna be around other people.” He mumbled. And you smiled again, even though your chest hurt a little at his words.

He didn’t want to be around people, yet he walked all the way to your library just to see you. Something about that made you feel all warm inside. And you felt the need to cater to all his needs.

“Okay then, do you want to go to my place so we can have coffee and talk? It’s a short walk from here.” You explained, wanting to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

Bucky pulled away and nodded immediately. You smiled and went towards the desk to gather your things. You pulled out your phone and texted you two other employees, telling them to manage the library till you came by later during the day.

 The walk back to your apartment in the middle of the city was a short and silent one. Bucky held you hand all the way till there, and kept his head low. You felt him turn his head to look at you often, and whenever you caught his stare, he gave you a brief smile; making your heart flutter again.

-

“Sugar or creamer?” you asked, as you made two cups of coffee. Bucky shook his head. Black coffee then, you pushed the one mug towards him and took a seat at the island as well, facing him. “What was it about?” you asked.

Bucky kept his eyes down, understanding that you were referring to the nightmare he had. “Just… me hurting people.” A chill went down his spine as he uttered the words. He had hurt people; many of whom didn’t deserve any pain. But he had mercilessly caused pain. Immeasurable pain. And someone as tainted as him shouldn’t be around someone as warm and kind like you, he thought. He shouldn’t be here. “I shouldn’t be here.” He mumbled abruptly. “I should go.” He avoided your gaze and stood up to leave.

But then you walked over and grabbed his arm. “No.” you stopped him from leaving. “Hey, look at me,” you cupped his face, placing your other hand on his chest, and turned his head towards you. His eyes were red again, watery and sad. He blinked as he looked at you; lost and hurt, wondering if he even deserved this warmth, this attention and care. “I want you here, okay? I care, Bucky.”

He blinked again, letting your words settle in. And once it did, he leaned in for another hug.

“Do you wanna do some reading?” you asked, and he sighed.

“No.” he answered, sounding grumpy.

“Do you want me to read to you?” you asked again and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“Yes please.”

 And that’s how you two ended up on your large couch. Effortlessly comfortable in sharing space with one another; under cozy blankets, and Bucky placed his head on your lap and listened to your voice as you read him some of your favorite poems while mindlessly running your fingers through his hair. He liked this a lot.

“… While faithful love the watch should keep, to banish danger from thy sleep.” You ended another poem and Bucky smiled and looked up at you. “Liked that one?”

He nodded. “What’s it called?”

“Winter song.” You replied.

Very fitting, he thought and smiled to himself before looking up at you again. “Another one, please?” he asked, politely.

You giggled and flipped through the pages of the book, searching for another one. As you began reading, Bucky felt himself slipping more and more under your spell.

There was this sense of familiarity between the two of you. Despite having known each other for just some months, you felt like you knew each other for decades. It was unusual, but comforting. For instance, having him here in your home, in your living room under the same blanket as you felt delightful, and soothing.

Sure, you had a crush on the man since the day he first stepped into your life. And vice versa. But this felt like so much more. It felt satisfying, like coming home after a long day; knowing that inside these walls, you’re protected and far from the dangers of the outside, darker world. Your home and your company made Bucky feel like he was safe inside a bubble of ease and comfort. He hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time. So he was grateful for you.

“…This world I saw as on her judgment day. When the war ends, and the sky rolls away. And all is light, love and eternity.” You finished the poem and looked down to find Bucky asleep on your couch, with his head on your lap.

You smiled as you admired the man. Life hadn’t been easy on him, it had been cruel and painful. And he deserved happiness, and love and light. You knew he did. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his forehead, giving him a quick kiss before carefully slipping from under him and placing a cushion where your lap had been, making sure he was comfortable as he napped.

 And soon, that became a habit as well.

---

Bucky spent much more time in your apartment than he did at the compound. And it felt strangely like a norm you two had been following for years, when in reality it had been just weeks. Perhaps it was because there was no sexual tension in between you two… yet, but you just needed one another to feel normal and complete.

Many days you’d wake up and find him in your kitchen. And you’d sleepily walk over to him, give him a kiss on the shoulder, or his neck, or cheek – whatever was reachable. And he’d smile and kiss your forehead and make you coffee.

Then you’d walk till the library together, and he’d spend some time in there, until he received a call from the team. Of course, he still went on missions, and sometimes you wouldn’t see him for 2-3 days. But in the end, he’d always come back to you.

And you knew he relied on you a lot. Be it calling you in the middle of the night – when he slept at the compound, or when he was away on missions – after he’s had a terrible nightmare and telling you that he just needed to hear your voice to feel better. Or crashing on the couch in your room because he just can’t be alone, and needs to be as close to you as possible. Or how he’d often spend hours hanging out with you, asking you politely to read to him.

You loved taking care of him. And you never realized that you relied on him too. And you didn’t know you couldn’t live without him either, until the time when you didn’t seen him for weeks.

Calls, voicemails, messages, he replied to none. You didn’t even know if he was just unavailable, or isolating himself or worse, had had a mission go wrong.

You thought of the worse. Him hurt, and alone, trapped somewhere you couldn’t reach him. You knew he was strong, and could fight his way out of anything. But although enhanced, he was human still.

Your days became mundane and bland without your favorite metal-armed super soldier. The littlest of things reminded you of him. The extra mug out on your counter. The creamer in the fridge which he never used. The knitted blanket he loved but wouldn’t admit to loving it because it was bright, obnoxiously pink. The hair band he had left on your coffee table. The books you planned on reading to him, but didn’t get the chance yet.

Please come back to me…

You cried the first night. Then by the end of the first week without him, you weren’t cheery anymore, you just felt empty. You knew you could always reach out to the rest of the team and ask about him, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. Besides, they wouldn’t even know who you are.

So all you could do was wait. You heard around that some of the Avengers had gone on a mission, and you didn’t know if it was entirely true because a lot of people just gossiped about stuff they didn’t know for sure.

But hearing that he might just be away on a mission was somewhat comforting. Still, you were worried sick.

 ---

You sure missed him, but you didn’t know just how much until you couldn’t hold back the tears the day he finally showed up at the entrance of your library one morning, almost two weeks later.

“Hey doll.” he seemed a little tired. And bruised. His flesh arm had bandages around the knuckles up till his wrist. The bags under his eyes were a little more prominent.

Bucky felt both relief and pain as he took in the look on your face. Your watery eyes and the look of relief in your eyes as well.

“Buck…” you whispered and you walked over to him and rushed into his arms, paying barely any attention to some of the people who were sat inside your café. You tried your hardest to seem chill, and calm and collected.

But you couldn’t hold back the tears. You wrapped your arms tightly around Bucky and wet his sweater with your tears. Not sobbing, but just letting out all the emotions you had been bottling up during his absence. “Where were you?” you asked, sniffling.

Bucky cracked a little smiled and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “Long, tiring mission. I didn’t have my phone. Sorry I left so suddenly.”

You sniffled again and pulled away to look up at him. “It’s okay. It’s your job, I understand. I just… missed you a lot. I thought you… I thought you wouldn’t come back to me.” You lowered your eyes to the ground, staring at his boots instead.

He grabbed your chin gently and moved lifted your face so he could look at you. God knows he had missed you so terribly as well.

“I missed you too, doll.” he said with a weary smile. The nickname he had given you shortly before disappearing on you for two whole weeks still made you feel all tingly.

You didn’t want to cry so you leaned in for another hug. Wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your forehead against his chest, you sighed loudly and inhaled his lovely, masculine scent. “Don’t leave me.” You mumbled.

You heard him let out a little chuckle as his arms tightened around you. “I won’t, doll. I’m here. I’ll always come back to you.” His words made your heart flutter again. And you pulled away, wiping your tears and maintaining your composure, not wanting to been seen all teary by the rest of your clients.

You sniffled again, looking down at your shoes. And another tear fell. Bucky reached out and wiped it gently. You spoke up again, “You can’t just disappear like that. I was so worried.” You were still upset. Relieved that he was alright, but upset nonetheless.

Bucky was in awe. No one ever cared this much when he was away on mission. The whole world saw him as an ex-assassin, the fist of HYDRA, now an Avenger, a super-soldier who was designed to fight and end battles which he didn’t even start. Not many people made him feel like he was human too. That he feels pain when he’s kicked or punched, or shot at. That his wounds bleed just like anyone else.

But you did. Around you, it was okay for him to be vulnerable. Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry.” He whispered against your skin. “I didn’t know I would end up being away for so long. Although, I would love to make it up to you. Movie night?”

You looked up at him and immediately remembered the last time you had a movie night, around three weeks ago. And how the two of you had fallen asleep on the couch and you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled with his. It was the best night of sleep both of you had in a long time.

You nodded quickly.

 ---

Movie nights with Bucky definitely earned a top ranking on your list of favorite things. It was adorable how he had countless questions about movies, and how he’d point out every little detail which you missed out on. Or how he gradually inched closer and closer to you on the couch, until his thighs were touching yours.

And your whole body felt like it had been electrified the minute he casually placed his hand on your thigh, barely paying any attention to you as he watched the movie. Your body was burning hot under his touch. And you squirmed just a little when the pad of his thumb lazily caressed your skin; in an innocent, affectionate manner – but which also filled your brain with filth.

“You okay, doll?” he asked in that velvety smooth voice of his which made you weak in the knees.

You cleared your throat and tried to push all the filthy thoughts out of your mind. “Yeah. Yeah, why?” you almost stuttered as he gently moved the palm of his hand up and down your thigh. You looked up at him and he was smirking.

Oh, so he’s been doing this on purpose?

“You look a little…” he trailed off as he gently leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “… troubled.” He chuckled as he heard you gasp. He pulled away and studied your face for a second. You looked fierce, and ready to pounce on him; obviously frustrated and turned on by his antics. “Come here, doll.”

Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, making you straddle his thighs as you lowered your body onto his lap. You immediately felt something hard pressing into you, right in between your legs.

“I still have to make up for the time I’ve been gone, don’t I doll?“

 ---

 You woke one morning, feeling tingly. So much so that your own giggle chased away all the remnants of the previous night’s sleep. You looked to your side and noticed that Bucky wasn’t there. And then you felt him. More specifically, his mouth. Right in between your legs.

He mouth latched on to your wet heat and he ate you out, coaxing you to wake up. Gently, as always. You peaked under the blankets and found him tongue-fucking you. You threw the blanket off the both of you to get a better look at him.

Since that one movie night, about a month ago, you and Bucky had been sleeping in the same bed each night. Except on days when the team needed him for a mission or something. But other than that, he lived with you most of the time. And you were the happiest person ever.

“Well good morning to me.” You spoke, voice still a little groggy from your deep slumber, but also a little hoarse due to last night. Bucky was always a little more needy and passionate, and insatiable whenever he returned from missions; like last night.

You watched how he pulled away from your wet folds and looked up at you with those stormy blue eyes you were in love with. “Morning baby.” he whispered, flashed you a breathtaking smile, and got back to pleasuring you. Your legs trembled in pleasure, and Bucky’s hands locked around your thighs as he pushed the lower half of his mouth further into you, teasing you with his tongue.  

He had you moaning and squirming under him, slipping his tongue in between your wet folds, poking at your entrance and sucking on your clit. Your fingers grabbed his hair and you tugged on it occasionally, and it drove him wild each time. He loved every inch of you, and he made sure to show you just that each and every day.

With a couple more strokes of his tongue, you came all over his mouth, and he lapped up all that you gave him. Wanting more and more. His hunger for you couldn’t ever be satiated fully, he concluded. Especially not when he woke up next to a naked you almost each day.

Bucky kissed his way up your body, stopping every second and kissing every inch of your skin until he reached your mouth; where he kissed you passionately, deeply. Licking the inside of your mouth hungrily, making you moan and feel dizzy just from a kiss.

He finally pulled away and looked down at you. “I am so in love with you. It’s crazy.” He whispered. And lowered his body onto yours, pushing his face into the crook of your and peppering your skin with kisses again.

“I am madly in love with you too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head, smiling to yourself and relishing his body heat. Loving Bucky came with its own challenges, but there was nothing in this world you wouldn’t do for him.

As for him, you were the stability and sense of belonging which he sought for so long. And now he had it, and he wasn’t letting go you of you anytime soon. You were his, and that alone made him the happiest he had ever been all his life. You were his safe haven.

And you both silently promised to keep each other safe and sound.

[educatedinyellow]

2021 Fanworks Masterlist

I’m rachelindeed on AO3, and educatedinyellow here on tumblr. Here’s a round-up of my fan creations this year :)

(vid) Peter Wimsey/Harriet Vane: You Matter to Me. A tribute to Peter and Harriet's evolving romance, from the 1987 BBC series starring Edward Petherbridge and Harriet Walter. 

(vid) Destiel: Fighting the Narrative. The forces of heaven, hell, and the narrative constantly put Dean and Cas into unwinnable, tragic situations, but they always fought to defy fate. Ultimately when the story ends, they break free and can write their own future together.

(fic) best things dwell out of Sight (Holmes/Watson, 9.5K, Ritchie Holmes) In a society where telepathic ability is too often equated with worth, Miss Mary Sutherland is short-Sighted. But that didn't stop her from smelling a rat in Mr. Hosmer Angel's courtship, and her case gives Holmes and Watson the chance to prove that the marriage of true minds requires no magic at all.

(vid) Holmes/Watson multiverse: Just Dance! It's a Holmesian dance party and everyone's invited!

(vid) Emma: Judge of your own happiness Emma learns the workings of her heart. A tribute to the lovely 2009 adaptation of Austen's "Emma."

(vid) Dean Winchester: My Kind of Man Dean's father taught him to be a certain kind of man, but throughout his life his loved ones try to help him figure out what kind of man he truly wants to be.

(vid) Destiel: Scarborough Fair Remember me to one who lives there; he once was a true love of mine.

Total number of completed things: 6 vids, 1 fic, plus 2 pencil sketches

Total word count: 9,600 words

Fandoms created for: Dorothy L. Sayers mysteries, Supernatural, Ritchie Holmes, Emma 2009 miniseries, plus a whole lot of Holmesian adaptations for my multiverse vid

Looking back, did you create more than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? A little less, I think. This wordcount is pretty average for me, I usually bow out at around 10K words a year. But in recent years I've tended to make a few more fanvids than I did this year. In the last quarter of the year real life concerns took precedence, and that's fine.

What’s your own favorite creation of the year? I can honestly say I like them all, but my favorite vid is Scarborough Fair -- I've always thought the song was beautiful, and I think the match of lyrics and images turned out quite lovely. And I'm always pleased whenever I get a story written, because that's a good deal harder for me than any of my other creative endeavors. I loved taking the opportunity to add a little magical realism to a Victorian Holmes verse, I adore that kind of thing.

Did you take any creative risks this year? Not…really? Mostly I just did My Usual Sorts of Things :) I did see some progress this year though. I'm proud of the Diana Rigg portrait, it's a definite improvement for me in my sketching.

Do you have any goals for the new year? I have one fanvid already made that I'll be posting in the new year, but otherwise I have no idea what I'll be working on next. I tend to play things very much by ear.

Most popular creation of the year? Ahaha, this one is hilarious! So, the Ever Given got stuck in the Suez Canal, yes? Well, apparently YouTube's algorithms took that as a sign to start promoting the hell out of anything whatsoever with a nautical theme…As a result, a Master and Commander fanvid that I made in 2019 for a small Festivids exchange suddenly and completely unexpectedly took off. This thing had less than 10 likes on tumblr, but purely thanks to mysterious algorithm magic it's currently clocking in at 33,000+ views on YouTube. Truly the funniest and most random thing I could ever have achieved popularity with, LOL!

Creation of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: I'm glad whenever anyone looks at anything of mine! I do regret a little bit, though, that there is no online place within the large Destiel fandom devoted to sharing fanvids. I think Destiel fans might enjoy some of mine, but there's really nowhere in particular I can put them where they will be seen. I mean, I put them on AO3, obviously, but in my experience most people on AO3 are there looking for fic, not vids. And YouTube is not well organized for fandoms, there's too much else going on over there so these things tend to vanish quickly into the ether. *shrug* C'est la vie.

Most fun thing to make: Just Dance!! So many Holmeses, so many Watsons, even so many Moriartys! It finally introduced me to Sherlock Hound, which was a delight. Also, Lady Gaga's song is a bop and it was very cheering listening to it endlessly as I worked.

Most unintentionally telling thing: This was intentional, actually, but best things dwell out of Sight was the first fic in which I have been conscious of incorporating some of my feelings as an asexual person into my writing (not in a literal sense, the characters in the fic are not ace, but I'm personally aware of that element influencing some parts of the story).

Biggest disappointment: I've left Vimes/Vetinari languishing too long! Let's get those wheels moving again!!

Biggest surprise: I was so happy to hear that one of my tumblr friends enjoyed my Peter/Harriet vid and was prompted to check out the 1980s miniseries as a result, which they enjoyed very much! What a pleasure, to have gotten to introduce them to something they wound up falling in love with the same way I did!

Wishing you all the best for 2022, creatively and in all other ways, too!

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → ❝wait for you❞ part one

summary: bakugou is your best friend, you both dream to become great heroes. when bakugou ends up in a coma most move on but you can’t leave your best friend behind.  word count: 2k+ tags/warnings: romance, angst (with a happy ending eventually),  a/n: im alive! sort of. finally finished one of my many wips in between watching greys anatomy. shoutout to the show for some inspiration for this. those background patient plot lines hurt sometimes.

Bakugou Katsuki was your best friend. That might be hard for a lot of people to believe considering how hostile he could be sometimes. Most would describe him as feisty and unfriendly but there was always something that drew you to him. From the first day at UA, you knew he was going to be your best friend even if he didn’t want to at first.

It didn’t take long for him to start liking you back even if he refused to admit it. It was impossible for him to deny that it was nice to be cared about and it was harder to deny that he cared about you. It was something he never expected, to care about someone so much that when you missed a meal he would be shoving food in front of you, or if you were staying up too late he would force you to go to bed early. Even the smallest things about you concerned him.

The two of you made the perfect pair, you helped each other train and study. When he went through his worse times you were there for him, through the nightmares, through the panic attacks, you helped him when he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Bakugou wasn’t your only friend but your relationship with him meant everything to you. Your friendship with him ran deep. He was your person. He was the first person you thought about every day, he was the first person you told good news to, the first person you went to when you were upset.

Your friendship was everything to you and you always imagined it meant a lot to him as well.

Throughout the school years, it only got deeper. It was finally your last year of high school and you and Bakugou were both on track to become amazing heroes. Both of you had worked so hard to be at the top of your class and it was almost time to go into the real hero world. You had even both secured spots at the top agency you had been eyeing for a long time.

You wondered if you would be partners at your agency? That would be too perfect. Both of you had bright futures ahead of you but one day took that away.

It was a normal day, you and Bakugou were working your intern patrol shift. It was sunny but not too hot and things were reasonably calm. There were a few crimes to keep things interesting but nothing too dangerous. It was a good day.

The two of you were eating lunch, you had gotten your favorite sushi for lunch despite the fact that Bakugou wanted to get ramen. But fair was fair and you had won your game of rock, paper, scissors.

That’s when the chaos broke out. A villain was attacking and you both sprung into action without a second thought. It was going well as it usually did, you worked together flawlessly. A perfect team. That was until Bakugou took a hit neither of you saw coming.

The sight of him tumbling across the pavement made you sick. You quickly subdued the villain before running to Bakugou’s side. He was laying on the ground face down. You turned him over, his face was covered in blood. Your heart sunk at the sight of him, eyes half open and face bruised.

Sirens alerted them to the arrival of the ambulances.

“Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t move, help is here.” You said, hand brushing against his face.

“I-” He said, his voice hushed. “Sunshine I-”

Sunshine. The nickname started out condescending, an insult almost but somewhere along the line it became endearing. A pet name almost.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself, please.” You said, grabbing his hand squeezing it tight. “You’re going to be okay.”

Bakugou was put on a stretcher and rushed to an ambulance, you rode with them trying to stay calm as they helped him. You held back asking questions not wanting to interrupt.

Bakugou’s red eyes stayed focused on you as you held his hand while trying to stay out of the way.

“It’s going to be okay, you have to be okay. You’re my best friend.” You said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Katsuki I-”

Bakugou’s eyes slipped closed and it was hard not to tear up in fear. You wanted to tell him how you felt but you hesitated and now he couldn't hear you. Your heart raced in your chest. He would be fine, he always was. He was a fighter and he always pulled through.

Waiting was the worst thing anyone could sit through is the conclusion you came to. Sitting in the hospital’s waiting room staring at the patterned tile you were suffering. The thought of Bakugou in an operating room opened up hurt you to your core. The urge to sob was strong but you refused to. Bakugou would be okay and he would tease you endlessly if he found out that you cried over him.

Bakugou would be fine. You knew he would. He had to be.

Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou showed up, looking more scared than you had ever seen them before. You were familiar with his parents, they had invited you over many times for dinner and they always got along with you.

“What did they say?” Bakugou’s mother asked as she approached you, she grabbed your arms frantically.

“He’s in surgery, they aren’t saying much.” You told her. She let out a sigh sitting down next to you.

Time went by slowly as the three of you waited impatiently. Finally, the doctor appeared.

“Bakugou family?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s us.” Ms. Bakugou stood up along with you and her husband.

“The surgery went well, we were able to fix the trauma and bleeding in his brain. He’s patched up but there was swelling during the surgery.” The doctor said solemnly, his hands held together.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Bakugou questioned.

“The likelihood of him waking up is very low.” He said.

It felt like everything around you was falling apart.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?” Mrs. Bakugou shouted. “If you fixed everything, what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor began to explain it but everything around you went fuzzy. You couldn’t hear anything, you felt sick. Before you could do anything else you ran outside of the hospital making it to a tree before throwing up.

Bakugou wouldn’t wake up. He was alive but he wasn’t going to wake up. The next year of your life was so clear in your mind, graduating, working beside Bakugou, climbing the ranks, becoming amazing heroes. Together. It was all gone, how were you supposed to go on without him? You couldn't picture your life without him.

You stood in front of his hospital room door still. If you stepped through that door you knew that it was over. The image of Bakugou standing strong next to you ready to face the world would be gone. The reality of what happened would set in and you could never go back.

It was easy to picture him, picture those moments with him. The first time you met him, you were both so young. He was so feisty and unwilling to befriend anyone. The memory of him yelling at everyone around you.

You could remember the day you had gotten through to him, had a heart to heart. His red eyes looked so soft for the first time and you knew that you would do anything to keep his trust in you so he would always feel safe enough to open up to you.

The memory of him in his dorm, scared and breathing quick after a nightmare. You had crawled into bed with him and held him. He protested at first but quickly realized you were more stubborn than him this time. Then he realized how nice it felt to be held by someone who cared about you, who wanted you to feel better. How safe he felt in your arms. The softness of his blond locks was unforgettable.

This morning was so clear, Bakugou in his hero costume laughing at a dumb joke you made. You would never see him stand tall again. You took a deep breath.

Softly you opened the door revealing the hospital bed. The sound of beeps filled the room. Walking up to the bed you took in a shaky breath.

Bakugou laid in the bed hooked up to wires. The side of his hair was shaved, where the surgery was. He was still, the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life. He looked so peaceful.

You sat in the chair beside the bed, head in your hands, a broken sob coming out of you.

“You have to wake up.” You said looking up at him, taking his hand in yours. “I know you can pull through this, I can’t do this alone. What kind of hero would I be without you?”

There was no reply to your cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let this happen." You cried. "I'm sorry we didn't get what you wanted for lunch. If I could go back, if I could do everything different I would. I wish it was me."

Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body.

"You're my best friend, you're my everything." You cried.

Everything felt empty. Time passed, life moved on. Your friends, your fellow students tried to console you while they grappled with the fact that Bakugou wasn’t around anymore. Your teachers looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that these things came with hero work but you were far too young to be dealing with it.

Graduating, something you had looked forward to for so long tasted like ash in your mouth. Standing there with your classmates taking pictures, everything was numb. All you could see was Bakugou laying in that hospital bed unmoving.

Life moved on but you felt like you stood still. You started working at the agency and you worked hard doing your best. The only thing you could do was be the best hero you could be to prevent people from getting hurt like Bakugou did. Even as you progressed and life moved on you felt like time was frozen.

After every shift you visited him, you would bring your dinner with you and eat in his room. You would tell him about your day. On good days you could convince yourself he could hear you.

Time moved on and less people visited. Your fellow students got busy with their hero careers. His parents visited on the weekends, Aizawa would visit once a month. Sometimes you ran into him. The two of you would sit there in silence.

“Do you visit him a lot?” Aizawa asked.

“Everyday.” You answered. “Almost every single day.”

“Why?” He asked, his gaze not moving from his former student.

“He’s my best friend. I can’t stand the thought of him sitting here alone.” You answered, a tear dripping down your cheek. “If he was awake I know we would see each other every day, it feels wrong to not see him. Even if he is asleep, even if he doesn’t know I’m here. I can't go without him, even if he's just laying here.”

“I understand.” He said.

Aizawa didn’t explain but you knew deep down he understood how you felt.

It took time, you had a lot of time to think when you weren't talking out loud to Bakugou's unconscious body.  It took time but you finally realized something.

You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Not just the way someone loves their friend, no something deeper than that. Why else would someone spend every day with their unconscious friend? Even as years passed.

Looking back it all made sense, how validating it felt to tell Bakugou about the highs and lows of your life.  How much you focused on the small touches between you and him. How the thought of not spending the rest of your life with him tore you apart.

How had it taken you so long to realize?

Everything about him made you feel alive. His shining qualities, his flaws, his quirks, everything about him made you happy.  You loved him so deeply, how had you never known?

You loved Bakugou Katsuki and it was too late to do anything about it.

Years passed. Your career progressed, you climbed the hero charts and you became the hero you and Bakugou always aimed to be. Even if you had made it to the thing you wanted more than anything else in life it felt empty.

All you wanted was your best friend there with you. You wanted to tell him how you felt. Not just his unconscious body. You felt like a ghost, all of your friends lived their lives but you couldn’t enjoy it. You didn’t go out with them, you spent all your time with Bakugou at his bedside.

Every day you hoped, prayed he would wake up.

Time was an odd thing, getting old felt wrong. You looked older and so did Bakugou even if he laid there unmoving all this time. His hair was longer than it had been but you kept up with it. The nurses let you trim his hair, shave his facial hair when you had the time. It made you feel a little less helpless.

It had been a long day, a bad day. People died, people, you should have saved. You should have been fast enough, you should have been a better hero.

Sitting next to Bakugou you told him about your day.

“I moved, I reached to grab them but I wasn’t fast enough.” You said. “They died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

The tears streamed down your face. You reached forward grabbing his hand.

“You're here in this bed because I wasn’t fast enough, I was a bad partner I should have saved you. I should have taken the hit for you. I wish it was me in this bed, I wish I was dead.” You sobbed, breaths heavy it felt like you were suffocating. You were drowning, you had been since that day.

The sounds of your sobs were loud, your hand limply grasping at his. Your breathing stopped at the movement under your hand.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids.

part two

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[curiousconch]

Chase You / Chase Me (Pt. 2)

Part 2: Before I dive right into you

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of their pretend wedding in Las Vegas, Gabe begins to unravel his growing feelings for Alex. But as he attempts to bring his past to light, someone from Alex's previous life casts a shadow on the future.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.4k+ (sorry 🙈)

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / alcohol consumption, some swears

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

A little after 1 AM, Las Vegas

Gabe can't help but smirk at the look of mischief in Alex's eyes as they stood by a quiet spot in the middle of Las Vegas. With her in that glittery dress, he somehow can't bring himself to part from her yet.

He knew it wasn't only him who felt that tingling in his fingertips when he brushed her cheeks, her breath smelling strongly of martini. He was very aware that Alex felt the same when she stared back at him, standing at that cramped cheap chapel while an Elvis impersonator stood nearby. The moment she stepped away when he said that it's just all pretend made Gabe's heart ache with regret.

So here they were, standing awkwardly after he shot down her advances again.

But he was sure he didn't want the night to end here.

After calling for a car, he shoved his phone inside the pocket of his slacks and turned to Alex.

"I was serious when I said I wanted a celebratory drink," he glanced apologetically to his side where she stood. "Our hotel bar offers my favorite scotch."

Alex raised her head, smiling. "Knew you had it in you, Gabe."

A car ride and a couple of glasses of Lagavulin later, there they were, lounging on stools at their opulent hotel bar, warm lights and jazz music providing a backdrop on the casual atmosphere.

"And I could not believe the rat thing worked! Who would've known they kept a rat in there as a pet? Like really?" Alex raised her glass to her lips, as Gabe sat on the barstool beside her, cradling his own drink.

"Beginner's luck, I would believe," he chuckled in reply, leaning forward, tie loosened and his coat hanging at the back of his chair.

"I am so offended," Alex gasped as she shoved her hands flat on her chest in mock disbelief. "I'm not only the boring nerd when I was in high school, Gabe. I was that nerd who sang and dance at the drama club!"

Gabe shook his head, his lips pursing. "That makes so much damn sense, Alex." He took another swig of his third shot, fighting for dear life from laughing his heart out. Not wanting to give her that satisfaction, he threw a sarcastic dig at her remark. "That's so believable, seeing you could snatch an Oscar from Meryl Streep herself and the no one wouldn't even bat an eye."

"Ah, law was plan A, sir." she saluted, placing her empty glass on the bar counter. "Acting was a fallback in case it didn't pan out." she giggled.

Gabe grinned as he rolled up his sleeves, beckoning the bartender for another round. "You should have made it your plan A, seeing how you turned out," he teased, bringing up the fun bit they did to retrieve a copy of Lydia Rothswell's marriage certificate. The very same act that almost made Gabe kiss Alex in the middle of The Strip.

"Aww, Gabe, finally found a better lawyer than you? Feeling threatened yet?" Alex leaned in, snickering as their glasses were refilled. "Don't worry, I' ll settle for being a Junior Partner for now," she said as she reclined, before throwing in a playful wink.

"Well someone's head just became bigger," he gave her a smug look.

"Just trying to keep up with all the cockiness in the room," she smiled coyly, watching Gabe's stupefied expression. It was clear then that she scored a slam dunk at the championship of comebacks, laughing at his astonishment.

Gabe finally gave up, joining Alex in her laughter. As their joy receded, he let himself take in the sight of Alex without any inhibitions. What he was beginning to see was the extent of her wit, her ability to keep her cool, and the sharp humor that matched only his.

Under the warm light of the lounge, she brilliantly shone. He couldn't focus at what she was now saying as he danced at the appeal of them becoming more than colleagues. Perhaps he resisted his own feelings long enough that he was past the point of denial. Or simply because he was starting to get drunk.

Though before he can even begin to consider that, he was still sober enough to know that he first needed to tell her the truth.

The truth that sometime long ago, their paths have already crossed. And that he did something very horrible.

Call him cynical, but he wasn't kidding when he admitted he was an all-or-nothing kind of guy. And that meant laying down all his cards on the table. Because for him, Alex was more than the occasional one-night stand. And he can't be certain of how long he could keep himself from his budding feelings, all stakes be damned.

What better time to be honest when there was enough alcohol in his system to prevent all rational thinking? It's now or never, he figured.

"Alex, I -"

"Alessandra? Alessandra Keating?" a deep voice came from behind him, interrupting Gabe. He cocked his head to get a clearer view, as a man with slicked back blonde hair approached from a private booth nearby.

Without hesitation, the tall stranger in the dark suit stepped forward, his striking features Gabe would have easily recognized anywhere. That face was almost in every blockbuster movie in the last five years.

"Julian? What are you doing here?" Alex asked, as abashed as he was. Gabe saw how she clammed up the very second she recognized the man.

"Oh my, it really is you!" the man stopped beside Alex's bar stool, welcoming himself to their company. The way he was looking up and down at her made Gabe's jaw clench so hard, his teeth gritted. But the man's next movement stunned him all the more. In front of him, the man embraced Alex, making Gabe suddenly want to combust. His tumbler could've shattered if he tightened his grip on it a little more.

"Uhm, Julian, hi," Gabe surveyed Alex as she writhed within the man's arms, waiting for any signal from her so he could do something, anything, to make this man go away. But she assured him with one look, shifting a little, making the man who wedged himself between them release her.

"It's been so long! When was the last time I saw you, like, 12, 13 years ago?" the man exclaimed, his annoying smile making Gabe want to slam his fist somewhere. And it wasn't on the bar counter.

Gabe heard Alex scoff, fighting hard to regain her composure. "Yeah, high school," Her icy demeanor took over, one that Gabe only saw in the courtroom. She brushed her dress as she tilted her head to Gabe's direction.

The man turned to Gabe, the surprise evident as he acknowledged Gabe's presence behind him. The two men sized each other up sending an undercurrent of tension between them. Before Gabe could even consider acting out of impulse, Alex cleared her throat to diffuse his temper.

"Julian, this is Gabe. Gabe, this is Julian, my -"

"Ex," Julian interjected, before turning his attention to the lawyer. Apparently, this guy had a habit, Gabe observed. "We were together senior year. Alessandra, my angel, we had the best time together, didn't we? We looked good together, at least after Alex thought to improve her image here. Sadly, we had to break up. Teenage romances, you know?"

The picture couldn't be any clearer; this was the person Alex was speaking about during their dinner back in New York. And hearing the way he talked, no wonder Julian got under her skin. He was a damned manipulative pretentious liar. Gabe could hear the dishonesty between the words, not an ounce of authenticity in sight while the blonde hotshot rambled on.

Alex wasn't showing any sympathy either, her brown eyes staring daggers at him, as he went on about his monologue, emphasizing on how she was his back then. She was clearly infuriated by his attempt to own her, as well as his lack of shame. As Gabe quietly considered her reaction, he deliberated on a strategy to put her out her misery. The moment an idea came to mind, he gave Alex a subtle look asking her to back his play.

Alex nodded, sitting a little straighter. Finding the instant shift in her, Gabe made his move.

"Sweetheart," he slowly raised his voice as he said the endearment, enjoying the contempt from the other guy when he was interrupted. "You never told me Julian Wintour was your ex."

Alex smiled smugly, appearing pleased with the nickname Gabe chose, a clear pun on the whole high school sweetheart trope. "Never crossed my mind, babe. It's such an unimportant detail in my past," she waved her hand dismissively.

"Ah, nonsense," he finished his drink and gestured for the bartender to clean up. "Mr. Wintour's history would have made a good conversation starter." Gabe straightened his vest and stood, collecting his coat. He sauntered towards Alex, circling around the now speechless Julian. He draped his jacket over her shoulders, clearly making a statement before he reached for her hand, wrapping it in his.

"Why? Isn't the shiny nameplate of Senior Partner not good enough?" Alex expertly rode along, locking eyes with her former flame before gazing back at Gabe enticingly. "Forgive him, Julian. My lovely boyfriend here has a bad hobby of underselling himself," she smiled warmly, the irony of her statement eluding her ex. Gabe was about to smirk with her ingenuity, stopping when he felt her arm slowly wrapping around his waist. He barely stifled a groan at the intimacy of her touch.

The other man went beet red at the gesture. For embarrassment or infuriation or both, Gabe didn't fucking care. All he cared about was for Alex to slap this douche's face, metaphorically speaking.

"Anyway, Julian, it's been a pleasure. It's been a long night, and we're about ready to retire at our penthouse suite," steadily, she got up from her seat. The command in her was undeniable, forcing anyone to feel nothing but regret the day they decided Alessandra Keating wasn't good enough for them. Then with a flourish, she turned around as she let Gabe take her away from her past lover's scrutinizing gaze.

Inside the elevator, Gabe caught Alex's exhale of relief, probably thankful that Julian was out of her sight. Gabe still held onto her hand, though Alex didn't seem to notice. As they began their ascent, he waited for her to break the silence, deciding that the questions running in his mind can wait.

"I would have traded my rankings for the look of disbelief in Julian's face," Alex said turning to him, to which Gabe arched his brow.

He smirked devilishly, knowing Alex could take the hint. "I believe I could offer a sight better than that."

She grinned at the innuendo, further lightening up the mood between them. "One day, Gabe, I'll take you up on that," she said, crossing her legs as she leaned on the polished wall behind her. "Though I'm sure you're dying to know... How did I end up dating the Julian Wintour?"

Gabe pondered before answering. "Hmm, actually not the first one that comes to mind, no." He tapped against his temple. "I doubted you would ever bat an eyelash to his direction."

Her eyebrows rose. "Ah, you think so highly of me." She chuckled, shaking her head at his reply. "But yes, he was my ex. And yes, he was the red on my ledger. He was my first love," she admitted. "That ideal, once in a lifetime, true love everyone's talking about? Julian was it, or at least I thought he was." she sighed, glancing at her reflection on the polished metal panel beside her. "But when things started to go downhill for me, he was the first one to walk out," she paused, taking a deep breath. "By cheating on me."

Gabe's body went rigid, clenching his fists so hard until his nails dug unto his palms. What the fucking hell? I know I should have punched that guy's perfect teeth! He decided against airing his vengeful thoughts, staying quiet as he glimpsed at her image on the walls.

"Joey reminded me how Julian made me doubt myself. If I'm really over what he's done to me, if he's still in my head," she continued, rubbing at her nape. Gabe felt her gaze fall on him, which he reciprocated. "But after walking out from him tonight, I am much more certain that I made it out, after all."

Gabe felt her squeeze his hand as she said those words, and his heart somersaulted inside his chest. "So thanks. I needed that little nudge," she said in finality.

He turned to beam at her as he relished the triumph in her words, hoping that it was enough to convey that he was proud of her. And to be part of that discovery about herself, about who she always was in his eyes - someone who was his equal.

When they arrived at her floor, she gently freed her hand from his grasp invoking a sharp exhale from him. She stepped out of the elevator, her gait as undeterred as ever. But then she turned, her soft expression dimmed by the lack of light. "And while we're on the subject of appreciation," she uttered, before dropping one last revelation.

"Thanks for that save you also gave me ten years ago," Alex glanced up at him with half-lidded eyes, her words laced with meaning.

It took him a few moments before he could even comprehend what she was trying to convey. He searched her eyes for some explanation but found none. "What do you mean, Alex?" he said, managing to find his voice.

"I know exactly who you are, Gabriel Ricci."

With that, the doors slowly closed in front of him, her sly smile fading from his sight until he can only see his own reflection. He examined her last sentence, repeating the words over and over in his head. There was only one plausible explanation: she only knew half of the truth. His body sagged against the wall as he shut his eyes, angry at himself.

No Alex, I think you really don't.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your continued reading! As some of you may have already noticed, this part was written purely in Gabe's POV because I wanted to expose his conflicted feelings for Alex. It's probably my own version of revenge, with PB stretching that slow burn as much as they could 🤭 Share your thoughts in the comments, I'd really appreciate it! 💖

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